


violent things

by inkk



Category: Bandom, Black Veil Brides, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fight Club - Freeform, Flirting, Fluff, Innuendo, M/M, Mixed Martial Arts, Moving In Together, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Slow Burn, Violence, ashley has a cat named gadzooks?, brief mentions of a house plant, protein shakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-02 17:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14550168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: the one where Andy and Ashley are fighters for an illegal underground mixed martial arts ring.





	violent things

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this to get practice at fight scenes and then...this happened. so here we are, a couple thousand words and two idiots in love later.  
> ALRIGHT SO first off, i owe this whole thing to my lovely beta [anatomyofacynic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatomyofacynic/pseuds/anatomyofacynic)!! i love u  
> second: general tw for LOTS of violence (i mean come on, it's a martial arts setting), mentions of past drug/alcohol abuse, copious swearing and some sex shit at the end. also: andy and ashley fight eachother twice, but it's only ever professional, absolutely everything is non-abusive and consensual etc... you get the drift
> 
> (also, the quote at the start is from ‘snow and dirty rain’ by poet richard siken, who is an absolute legend and my favourite poet. pls check him out.)
> 
> **ANDY IS 22, ASHLEY IS 29. the old man jokes are just dumb banter.
> 
> pic refs for how i imagine the boys:  
> [andy](http://nonbinaryvic.tumblr.com/post/173435426658) / [ashley](http://this-blasphemy.tumblr.com/post/120958502555/ashley-purdy-interview-for-dark-city-magazine)

_And the gentleness that comes,_  
_not from the absence of violence, but despite_  
_the abundance of it._

 

+

 

When CC tells Andy he’s booked a fight for him against Ashley ‘The Outlaw’ Purdy, Andy laughs in his face.

Then he nods, stifling a chuckle as he leans back in his chair. He looks at CC’s solemn face and says, “Easy. When?”

 

+

 

There are maybe fifty or sixty people in the makeshift arena that night. It’s a big enough fight, Andy supposes, as far as the underground scene goes. Everyone wants to see the new kid get beaten up by an experienced fighter like the Outlaw.

The ring is a regular boxing-style setup. Andy is talking with CC in his corner, getting used to the feel of the cool blue mat under his bare feet as he limbers up. He’s wearing his usual gear: tight-fitting navy shorts and blue grappling gloves. He can feel the audience watching, sizing him up, can hear them talking and making bets.

Andy is jumping on the spot and shaking his arms out when Ashley gets into the ring. The referee calls his name out and he raises his fists amidst both cheers and booing. He says something to the man in his corner, then looks to Andy with a smirk.

He has a handsome face with fine features; a delicate chin and thin lips, completed with sharp incisors and tan skin. Both his arms are covered in tattoos, as well as his stomach and his back.

Andy schools his expression into absolute calm as they lightly touch gloves. Ashley’s stockier and more heavily muscled than him, but Andy clearly has an advantage when it comes to height and reach.

The referee steps back, old-fashioned bell raised in the air, and Andy’s breathing slows. He’s focusing on Ashley, on his dark eyes, his long, braided-back hair and the fabric of his red challenger gloves.

The bell rings.

Ashley comes out swinging, trying to fluster Andy right off the bat with a flurry of blows, but Andy grabs him around the waist and slams him to the floor. Ashley’s quick to slide out of his hold, battering his head and elbowing him in the stomach. He lands a good one and Andy’s breath comes out in a huff, then Ashley’s back on his feet and jumping back with raised fists.

Andy barrels towards him and goes in for a kick to the stomach. Ashley blocks, but falters backwards, and Andy rams him into the ropes. They struggle for a moment, Andy holding Ashley around the waist with Ashley pummeling his back and head. A knee comes up and hits Andy in the face; he feels his nose spurt blood, and then manages a solid kick to Ashley’s left leg, causing them to go tumbling to the floor, Andy on top. There’s blood slicking the cheap mat, smeared along Ashley’s skin.

He’s disoriented for a moment, and Ashley uses the opportunity to flip them over so he’s straddling Andy, mercilessly beating his fists across his opponent’s face. Andy’s legs come up behind Ashley’s back, locking their bodies together as his blood-streaked arms come up to protect his face. Somewhere, he distantly hears people cheering, hears CC shouting something at him.

Ashley’s grip weakens as he raises his upper body to go in for a punch, and Andy sees his opening. His legs unlock around Ashley’s back and he kicks him in the pelvis, pushing them apart and scrambling to his feet, gloves up.

They dance around each other for a moment, circling the ring on agile feet. Ashley’s gaze is calm and razor-sharp as he goes in for a kick to the side of the head. Andy feels the impact, feels blood spilling out of his mouth but manages to grab Ashley’s leg and knock him on his back anyway.

Andy comes down on him hard, landing a vicious blow to his face. A gash opens above Ashley’s left eye and now there’s more blood, staining his fists and the sweat-slick skin of his chest. The crowd is loving it. CC is shouting pointers at him from the sidelines, but Andy’s too zeroed in on Ashley to care, battering his face with punches like it’s the only thing that matters.

Ashley’s spitting blood, the mat around them stained with splatters of deep red, and Andy keeps going until someone pulls him off.

He realizes it’s CC who has run into the ring to grab him by the shoulders and restrain his arms. Ashley is lying inert on the ground before him.

Andy grins ferally, all white teeth and red blood, and holds a victorious fist in the air.

 

+

 

Ashley finds him after the fight, at around two in the morning.

Andy is leaned against a rough brick wall, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. His head is leaned back, eyes closed, a thick stack of bills in his back pocket when the door creaks open and someone else comes out.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the fucking Prophet.”

Andy lazily turns his head to look. He’s exhausted from the adrenaline of the fight, but he musters a smirk when he sees who it is. “Come to get your ass handed to you again?”

Ashley laughs. “Fuck you, kid,” he says, but it lacks real venom. His face is a mess of bandages and emerging bruises as he comes to stand in front of Andy, pulling out a cigarette as well and sticking it between his lips. A streak of blood still remains on his neck. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” He holds a hand out expectantly, and Andy presses his lighter into Ashley’s palm.

“Old man Purdy,” Andy mocks him.

Ashley artfully flips him the bird, flicking the lighter on and lighting his cigarette in one smooth motion. He inhales deeply, eyes flickering shut for a second. “Hell of a fight back there. I’m surprised you didn’t break my nose again.”

“Yeah,” Andy agrees with a little laugh, idly ashing his cigarette. “You’re good,” he admits. “I’m just better.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Next time, I’m going to beat you into the fucking floor. We’ll see how cocky you are then,” Ashley says, but it doesn’t come across as a threat. He cocks one hip in an oddly feminine gesture, tilts his head and asks, “So how does a pretty kid like you end up in an ugly place like this?”

Andy shrugs. He only hesitates for a moment before replying - “Same as everybody else, I guess. We all need the money and we aren’t afraid to hit people.”

“Sure, princess,” Ashley snorts, blowing smoke. “I bet you have daddy issues of epic proportions,” he muses.

“Maybe,” Andy raises an eyebrow. “What goes on in my bedroom isn’t any of your business, though.”

“Jesus, twerp,” Ashley rolls his eyes. “Have a little shame.”

Just for that, Andy pushes his hips out from the wall, juts his chin out a bit and pouts his lips.

Something flickers across Ashley’s face. His eyes are unreadable as he slowly steps closer, invading Andy’s personal space. He smells intoxicatingly like smoke and soap and Andy can feel Ashley’s breath ghosting over his lips when he says, “Don’t tempt me, kid.”

 

(Andy doesn’t go home and jack off in the shower afterwards, doesn’t think about the smell of cigarette smoke and he definitely doesn’t come with two fingers buried inside himself and Ashley’s name on his lips.)

 

+

 

“The fight with Purdy was good for business,” CC tells him two days later. They’re sitting ringside in the local gym, Andy doing sit-ups while CC sits on the bench. “You’ll be booked up for the next six months, provided you keep up a decent amount of wins.”

Andy smirks, sitting up and grabbing his water bottle. “You know it, baby.” 

“In the meantime, I want you to spend extra time sparring with Jake,” CC continues. “And we’re going to work on your defence. I have some tapes I’d like you to watch so we can strategize for some upcoming matches.”

Andy mops his face with his shirt and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “Okay. Do you… Will I fight Purdy again, do you think?”

CC shrugs, shaking his head. “Hard to tell. After that defeat, his management might not be so eager to put you two against each other anytime soon.” Andy nods, about to resume his sit-ups when CC sighs and says, “Ashley, uh. He wanted me to give you his number.”

Andy freezes and blinks. “Oh?”

“I didn’t think it was a good idea,” CC frowns. “I still don’t. I wasn’t really going to tell you, but. I’ll forward his contact info and you can make the decision. Just... don’t say anything stupid.”

“Okay,” Andy says, keeping his face carefully neutral as CC stands up. “Thanks for the heads up.”

 

+

 

_hey_  
_it’s andy_

_hey, kid_

_why did you tell CC to give me your number?_

_i dunno. wanted to talk to you i guess. you’re a good fighter, even if you’re a cocky asshole_

_we should spar sometime_

+

 

The next four months pass in a blur of fights and training. Andy practically lives at the gym, and almost every waking moment is spent working out and improving his technique. Sometimes, he doesn’t even make it home for stretches of a couple days at a time, instead opting to pass out on the cot in CC’s office for the night. But despite being exhausted, Andy feels on top of the fucking world. He’s fought six times and won each one, and his name is quickly rising through the ranks. 

More and more people flock to see the Prophet fight.

It’s immediately after his latest successful match - _Andy ‘The Prophet’ Biersack VS. Danny ‘Tank’ Worsnop_ \- and Andy is in the changing room, hunched forward on the bench and breathing through the pain in his ribs. He’s learned the hard way just how much power Worsnop is capable of packing into his blows.

Suddenly, CC is there, grabbing his head and peering into his eyes to check for a concussion. Apparently satisfied, he asks, “You good?”

Andy nods once. “Fine.”

CC hands him his water bottle and goes over the usual post-match spiel, but Andy is hardly paying any attention until he leaves the room, taking everyone else with him. He bows his head with his eyes closed, just breathing out for a long moment.

He hears the door swing open and someone else comes in, stopping beside him. Andy catches sight of track pants and black Vans and then Ashley is there, looking down at him and saying, “You need to work on protecting your body.”

“You think?” Andy exhales a laugh, a sharp pain blooming in his left side.

He hears a huff of breath. “Fuck you, asshole. I’m trying to be helpful.” Ashley moves to stand in front of Andy, leaning back against the wall. “Christ, kid. You’re a mess.”

Andy knows it’s true. He’s covered in rusty smears of drying blood, maybe his, maybe Worsnop’s, his torso a mess of emerging bruises. His face is worse for wear as well; right eye red and swollen, a nasty, bloody cut adorning his lower lip.

“You’re not so fucking pretty yourself,” Andy shoots back. It feels like a lie.

“Yeah, well, at least I don’t agree to fights with guys three weight classes above me.”

“And what am I supposed to do, say ‘no, I don’t want to fight’?” Andy sneers, holding back a wince of pain. “That’s not how this game works and you know it.”

There’s a long pause. “Get in the fucking shower, Biersack,” Ashley finally says, but it comes out gently.

Andy doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to speak or breathe, so he just lets Ashley slowly pull him to his feet and guide him to the showers with his shorts still on.

“I can do it myself,” he protests when Ashley turns on the water and pushes him under, but he’s tired and weak and doesn’t fight back. The water is hot and stings his skin where it falls on his shoulders.

He blames it on exhaustion when he doesn’t stop Ashley from gently rubbing the blood away, hands tender over his bruised flesh, effectively soaking himself even though he’s still fully clothed.

“You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days,” Ashley finally says, his voice taut. “Worsnop is twice your size, what the fuck were you thinking?”

 _Money_ , Andy thinks, and his mouth turns up into a humourless smile. CC worked hard to secure this fight. All the money he’s made tonight will go towards paying for rent and groceries.

His eyes flicker shut as he stands under the spray and he says, “I won. That’s all that matters.”

 

+

 

Ashley invites Andy to his next fight.

_i’m going against some newbie_

_i’m gonna kick his ass, you should come watch_

_when?_

_tmrw, 10PM.1029-97St. tell the bouncer you’re w me_

So on Wednesday, instead of resting up at home, Andy finds himself standing in an unfamiliar gym with thirty or so other people. The building stinks like sweat and blood, but he’s long grown used to that smell by now. The pain in his ribs remains constant but manageable.

Andy bypasses the crowd and shoulders his way up to the side of the ring, looking around. He arrives just as Ashley’s climbing in, saying something to the man in his corner. He’s wearing the blue gloves tonight.

Ashley turns when he sees Andy and says, “Hey, kid! You came.”

Andy laughs and nods, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I did. You ready?”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah,” Ashley grins, bouncing on his feet. “I’m gonna make this kid eat dirt.”

He looks good; exhilarated and full of energy. His tan skin is shiny in the fluorescent lighting, and he’s wearing emerald-green shorts that go down to his mid-thigh and leave very little to the imagination. Andy wants to lick that stupid tattoo on his stomach.

The referee steps into the middle of the ring before he can entertain that thought further, calling out somebody named Kellin Quinn. Andy watches as a wiry kid no older than nineteen steps into the ring, and thinks _This is going to be over quickly._

Ashley and Quinn aren’t even in the same weight class. Ashley has two inches on him, and the kid is so new to the scene that he doesn’t even have a nickname yet. Andy wonders why the fuck his manager would put his name forward for a suicide match like this. Regardless, Ashley and Quinn touch fists in the middle and then the referee yells, _”Fight!”_

The match is over before it even begins. The Quinn kid is light on his feet, but Ashley blocks his every punch, circling him like prey as he strategically lances blows at the younger opponent. They carry on like this for another five minutes as the crowd gets restless. It’s clear that Quinn is inexperienced, and he’s visibly getting sloppier as the minutes wear on.

Quinn ducks as if to avoid a punch, putting his head in exactly the right position for Ashley to kick him in the side of the face with a resounding _smack_. The kid stumbles sideways and Ashley rushes in to grab him around the waist, throwing him to the mat amidst cheers from the audience. 

Quinn’s nose is spilling blood everywhere, the kid struggling as Ashley pins him down with his legs, landing blows all the while. He’s thrashing, looking panicked, and Andy can tell he’s about two seconds away from tapping out when Ashley knocks him out cold with a sharp blow to the side of the head. Andy watches Quinn’s head loll sideways, face bloody, and he claps as Ashley gets off of him with a big grin.

The gym medic rushes in, but Andy only has eyes for Ashley. His skin is slick with sweat and blood, dark eyes alight and chest heaving as they make eye contact. Ashley raises a fist in the air, walking a few steps with a smile on his face.

He hops gracefully down from the ring just as Quinn is coming back into consciousness, mopping his face and chest with a cloth. He lands in front of Andy and asks, “So? How was that?”

“Fucking brutal,” Andy laughs, “Christ, why was he even in the ring with you?”

Ashley shrugs, muscles shifting in his broad shoulders. The two of them turn to look at where someone is helping a stunned-looking Quinn to his feet. “Ah, he’ll be fine,” Ashley chuckles, slinging an arm around Andy’s shoulders and guiding him in the direction of the locker room.

“Like feeding a chihuahua to a pitbull,” Andy shakes his head. “That kid needs a new manager.” He’s getting distracted by the hot, damp feel of Ashley’s body pressed against his.

“So I’m the pitbull, then? What does that make you? A miniature poodle?”

“I consider myself more of a newfoundland. Big and friendly.”

Ashley raises an eyebrow as he pushes open the door to the changing room. “Big, huh?”

Andy rolls his eyes and follows him inside. “Never took you for much of a size queen, Purdy.”

“I know what I want,” Ashley volleys back. He strips off his gloves, setting them on the bench, and starts ripping the tape off his wrists with his teeth. Andy should not be enjoying this as much as he is, and he most certainly shouldn’t be thinking about Ashley in relation to the words ‘size queen’ because that really conjures up a lot of extremely X-rated images.

Ashley shoots him a considering look as he pulls his hair out of the usual tight braids. For a second, Andy wonders if he’s secretly a mind-reader. “What?”

“You wanna come over to my place after?” Ashley asks.

 _Oh,_ Andy thinks before answering. “Why?”

Ashley just shrugs. “Dunno. Figured we could eat food and get to know each other. No pressure.”

Andy considers it for a second, then says, “Okay.” 

Ashley grins. “Okay,” he echoes.

After Ashley showers and has a few words with his trainer - none other than retired kickboxer and super middleweight champion Jeremy ‘Jinxx’ Ferguson - the two of them set off from the gym. They smoke as they walk, and Andy keeps up a stream of small talk, mostly out of a weird sense of obligation. Ashley’s place isn’t far away, and within ten minutes they’re standing in front of a big, fancy-looking grey stone apartment building with a glass front.

Andy takes one last deep drag off his cigarette as Ashley unlocks the building door. He crushes it out against his shoe and flicks it into the garbage can beside the door with a practiced motion.

“Après-vous,” Ashley holds the door open.

The ride up the elevator is spent in peaceful silence as they ascend to the fourth floor. When they get out, Andy finds himself in a huge hallway with ceilings as high as a school gymnasium. Ashley wastes no time walking briskly down the hall until they reach the door marked 413.

Ashley opens the door, flicks on the lights and tosses his keys on the counter. Andy steps in after him and looks around; the apartment is mid-sized, with a high ceiling like the rest of the building. The kitchen, couch area and good-sized bed are all in one room, with another small room in the back right corner that Andy guesses is the bathroom. There’s a big window on the left side, and the walls are painted a cream colour, an abstract painting hanging here and there. It’s all very neat and minimalistic.

“Huh,” he remarks.

“What, not good enough for you, Biersack?” 

Andy thinks back to his broken-down apartment on the other side of town, the mildew and rot and regular plumbing issues. “It’s… great, actually,” he says, at a loss for words. “A lot different than I expected.”

“What, you mean ‘cause I’m old and I illegally beat people up for a living?”

His tone is jovial, and Andy laughs. “You must have a hell of a pension to afford this place.” He walks further into the apartment, looking around in wonder. “Fuck, dude. This is upscale. Shit, is that a fucking house plant?”

There’s the sound of four little feet, followed by the sound of a curious meow. Andy watches in disbelief as a small, black cat approaches to rub its head on Ashley’s calves, winding around his ankles.

“You have a cat?” Andy asks, tone bemused. _This day keeps on getting better._

“Her name is Gadzooks,” Ashley grins fondly at his furry companion, bending down to scratch behind her ears.

“Uh, wow. Wouldn’t peg you for the type for… all this.”

Ashley says, “Don’t get carried away. My family had some money, that’s all. I’ve earned the rest over the years. I used to be in the fashion industry.”

Andy hums. “I was going to guess a secret double-life in prostitution.”

“No shame in the world’s oldest profession,” Ashley smirks. “You seen these guns? I could be a male escort, no big deal.” He flexes his arm, bicep muscle jumping.

Andy just rolls his eyes and turns away. “You got any whiskey?”

 

+

 

In Andy’s defence, he’s five glasses in by the time he starts fawning over Ashley’s tattoos. Somewhere along the line both their shirts have come off and now they’re sitting on the couch, Andy’s hand trailing over the black ink on Ashley’s stomach, tracing the letters. 

“It’s such a stupid tattoo,” Andy is saying, but he’s laughing.

“What, like fucking _Batman_ is any better?” Ashley protests, pressing one finger into the symbol on Andy’s forearm.

“I like Batman,” Andy narrows his eyes. Ashley’s abdomen tenses under Andy’s hand as he laughs, and. _Oh._

“What?” Ashley says after a moment. “Do I have something on my face?”

Andy’s just staring at him, and _god_ , he knows it’s weird, knows he should look away. Ashley’s hair is long and loose around his face, muscles and tan skin and smile on display and Andy is way too fucking drunk for this.

He drains his glass in one swallow and says, “I need another drink.”

 

+

 

Andy wakes up face-down on the couch the next morning, a headache pulsing at the front of his head. He groans, pushing himself up onto his forearms and blinks, looking around.

 _Right._ Ashley’s apartment, Ashley with his shirt off, the two of them making far too much bodily contact. Whiskey. Lots of whiskey.

The sheets on the white queen bed are mussed and Gadzooks is curled contentedly in a round black ball at the foot. The sound of running water emanates from the bathroom. Andy closes his eyes and turns onto his back, feeling around for his phone. He finds it wedged in between the cushions near his ass; the time reads 9:57AM.

“Shit,” he says out loud. He’s supposed to be training at the gym by eleven. “Ash?” he calls, wincing at the loud sound of his own voice.

“In here,” a response floats out from the bathroom. There’s the sound of a shower turning off and then Ashley’s standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, skin still wet and glistening in the morning light. “Yeah?”

Andy’s mouth goes dry. “Uh, I need to. Go. I need to get back home to pick up my training gear, I mean. I told CC I’d be in at the gym by eleven.”

“I’ll walk you back to your car. You’re parked at the gym, right?” Ashley asks, tousling a hand through his wet hair.

“Yeah. Sorry, I, uh, didn’t plan on staying over last night.”

“I’m glad you did, though. I had fun.” Ashley’s smile is faint. “Just let me get dressed, I’ll be right out.” He turns back into the bathroom and Andy catches a glimpse of his muscled back, imagines him beating the shit out of someone in the ring and thinks, _I’m so fucked._

Five minutes later, Ashley emerges from the bathroom in joggers and a t-shirt that clings to his pecs. “You ready to go?”

After a glass of water and a Tylenol for the both of them, they leave the apartment and walk back to the gym from last night’s fight. The place itself looks even dingier in the light of day. The paint is chipping off and the walls are all vandalized to hell. Andy’s mostly just happy his car hasn’t been broken into overnight.

“So, I’ll see you later?” he asks, unlocking his car.

Ashley looks at him, considering his response, then shrugs. “You’re welcome to come over anytime.”

“Thanks,” Andy chuckles. “And seriously, we should spar sometime. I’ll totally kick your ass again.”

“Your gym or mine?”

“Mine, definitely. I don’t know why you come to this dump,” Andy gestures to the severely worn-down building. “Do you even have more than two speed bags?”

“Point taken,” Ashley raises an eyebrow. “I’ll text you. See ya later.”

Andy watches him go for a second, then gets into his car. _I’ll text you._ Such a simple phrase, yet it echoes around Andy’s skull as he drives back to his building and goes up the stairs to his apartment. He quickly grabs his gym bag from its usual spot beside the door, as well as a change of clothes, then drives to his gym.

CC’s waiting for him when he arrives. “You’re late.”

“By five minutes,” Andy huffs with an exasperated roll of his eyes, hiking his gym bag up on his hip.

CC slaps him on the back as Andy pushes past him. “Get changed quickly and do your usual routine, then you’re in the ring with Jake for a bit. We’re going to work on your kicks.”

Andy changes into his gym clothes in record time. He’s wearing black shorts and a navy blue muscle tee today, and he quickly makes his way through the usual stretches, followed by the usual exercises. By the time he’s done, it’s forty-five minutes later and Jake is suiting up to get into the ring.

“You ready, Pitts?” Andy calls with a grin, grabbing his water bottle and mopping his face with a towel.

Jake laughs and knocks the side of his headgear. “I don’t know. After seeing you take down Tank Worsnop the other night, I’m not so sure.” He’s bluffing, of course; Andy’s watched tapes of Jake’s old fights, and he knows exactly how good the man is. Jake may be retired because of chronic injuries, but he’s taught Andy most of what he knows.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Andy smiles, taking one last swallow of water before slipping on his own headgear and gloves.

 

+

_i hear you have a fight tomorrow_

_yeah, me vs. vicious vic fuentes_

_and you’re not inviting me?_

_big baby. it’s 10:30pm, 689-72nd ave._  
_come if you want._

_that’s gotta be the saddest invitation i’ve ever heard_

_still. ill be there_

+

 

Jake is just finishing wrapping up Andy’s hands when Ashley comes into the changing room with his usual greeting of “Hey, kid.”

Jake looks between them as he smooths down the last line of the black wrap on Andy’s wrist. “You invite him?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. I got it from here, man, I’ll be out in a sec.” Jake takes the hint to leave, the door swinging shut behind him.

“You seen the other guy? Vicious Vic?” Andy asks Ashley.

Ashley exhales. “Yeah. Short, but experienced. Rumour has it, he’s a devil in the ring. You’re really going to have to work to win this one.”

Andy pulls on the red pair of grappling gloves. “Well, let’s give the crowd a fight to remember, then.” He claps Ashley on the shoulders and grins. “You’ll be in my corner?”

“Yeah,” Ashley says, “The whole time. Remember to block your torso, okay? If you get hit one more time on your ribs, we’re looking at hospital time.” He motions to the still-fading bruises covering Andy’s left side.

“Okay,” Andy says. “Okay. I can do this.”

The two of them exit the changing room together, Ashley’s hand on Andy’s shoulder. Vicious Vic is standing in the ring, hopping slightly as he limbers up. Ashley’s right - Andy has a solid half foot on the guy in height, but the look in Fuentes’ eyes as they meet his own shows that he’s clearly undeterred by Andy’s tall build. He’s experienced in fighting people bigger than him, no questions asked. Andy just hopes he can lay Fuentes out before his ribs get damaged too much more.

Andy hears someone calling his name and then he’s climbing into the ring. Jake, CC and Ashley are at the ropes in his corner and he turns to look at them one last time as the adrenaline starts to flood his bloodstream.

“Remember your kicks, okay? Fuentes is short. Use that to your advantage,” Jake tells him as he starts bouncing on his feet.

“Just do what we practiced,” CC adds. “And please, for the love of god, protect your body.” Andy’s eyes flick to Ashley, who nods once with solemn eyes.

Andy turns away from his corner, shaking out his arms. He meets Fuentes’ gaze with calm as they touch gloves, and then the referee raises an arm. Andy feels his pulse singing in his ears, and then the referee’s arm lowers, signalling that the fight is on.

The two of them circle the ring for a minute, both light on their feet as they get a feel for each other.

Andy makes the first move. He darts in with a punch to test the waters, but Fuentes easily blocks and counters with his own punch to Andy’s chest, swirling away before Andy can strike him. He’s small and agile, just a half-second too quick.

Andy reaches out for a body punch, but Fuentes sees it coming - he grabs Andy’s arm and suddenly, Andy is on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Fuentes wastes no time in pinning him to the mat, holding him easily even as Andy kicks his legs. The smaller man rains down blows upon his head and Andy feels hot blood running down the right side of his face.

Distantly, he hears CC calling his name, yelling pointers, and finally, Fuentes adjusts his grip, giving Andy a split second to twist his way out of his hold, kicking him square in the jaw as he does so.

He stumbles back and Andy gets to his feet, raising his arms into position just as the smaller man comes running at him again. He’s about to raise his arms to defend his face when he remembers Ashley saying, _“Remember to block your torso, okay?”_ and so he does, leaving his face wide open for Fuentes to land a punch.

Andy feels something in his jaw crack and he lurches sideways, spitting blood and something solid. He hears Jake yell, “Get your arms up! Don’t let him get a hold on you!”

Andy gets his feet back under him at the last second, ignoring the pain in his lower face. Fuentes tries to kick his right leg from under him, but this time he’s ready for it, catching his opponent with a blow to the sternum. Fuentes stumbles back, giving Andy just enough time to come after him.

Fuentes raises a leg to kick him in the stomach, but Andy grabs it and yanks upwards, pulling him off balance as he flips the smaller man onto his back. The audience is cheering as Andy starts raining blows down on any skin he can see. His jaw aches and his vision is a little blurry, bloody saliva dripping from his lower lip, but he just keeps going.

Fuentes bucks upwards and flips them over, wasting no time slinging one strong arm around Andy’s neck from behind. His air supply is cut off and he tries to force Fuentes’ grip to loosen, vision narrowing as he struggles to draw in breaths.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ashley yelling something. His ears catch up a second later and he hears, “Flip him!”

Andy grunts and gets to his feet, gripping Fuentes’ forearms as he rises to keep him from sliding off, effectively trapping the smaller man on his back. He can pinpoint the exact moment his opponent realizes his plan because his legs wrap around Andy’s waist, trying to keep himself from being thrown. Andy growls and lets go with his hands, quickly dislodging Fuentes’ legs. As his arms loosen around Andy’s neck, Andy reaches to grab him around the waist and drags him so that he’s parallel to the ground, throwing him down with all the strength he has.

Andy feels the _smack_ as the smaller man hits the ground, hears the whoosh of air leaving his lungs and then Andy’s on top of him, going in for a side control hold. Fuentes kicks, trying to knee him in the back, but Andy barely budges, continuing to mercilessly beat him over the face and stomach. He hears the sickening crunch of bone under the knuckles of his grappling glove.

Andy hears Jake yelling, hears CC and Ashley join in. He keeps going until Vic goes limp and stops moving, just like he’s been taught all his life.

His arms and legs are shaking by the time they finally help him up from where he’s curled around Fuentes’ motionless body, panting. He grins and raises a bloody fist in the air anyways. Ashley is there, supporting him, wiping his face with a white cloth that comes away red and saying, “Good job, kid.”

“Fuck,” Andy breathes. “Shit, I lost a fuckin’ tooth when he punched me.” His tongue is worrying over the bloody hole in his gums where his first premolar should be. His head is spinning, feeling like the endorphins are the only thing keeping him from turning over and throwing up.

“Shit.” Ashley grabs him by the face and Andy winces at the pain in his jaw. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

Andy knows there’s something wrong with him, because in that moment, he’s focused less on the pain and more on the feeling of Ashley’s thumb resting on his lower lip.

“Andy!” Jake calls, followed by CC. “You fucking did it, you beautiful bastard!”

CC claps him on the shoulder and tousles his sweaty hair, sounding absolutely delighted when he crows “That’s seven for seven!”

“C’mon, let’s get you an ice pack for your jaw,” Ashley smiles, leading him to the corner of the ring where the two of them step down. Andy looks back and makes eye contact with Vic. He’s sitting up as someone hands him a water bottle, his face and chest bloodied, and his nose is definitely broken.

He gives Andy a thumbs-up.

 

+

 

Andy collapses onto the locker room bench and slips his grappling gloves off. His hands hurt, fingers stiff, and he’s thankful when Ashley starts peeling his wraps off for him.

“That was a good fight,” CC says, grabbing his face to look into his eyes. He frowns. “You might have a concussion after that blow. Dizzy at all? Nauseous?” Andy just nods once. “Fuck. Okay, that’s fine. Just keep me posted if it gets bad.”

Jake says, “I saw he lost a tooth, too.”

CC sighs, pulling out his phone to write something down. “I’ll book you back in with Perry at the dental clinic this week. He’ll take care of you.” He pats Andy on the shoulder. “You did good, man.”

Ashley speaks up. “You two can go take care of the crowd and the money and shit, I can handle this.”

CC looks to Andy, who nods again in exhausted acquiescence. “Okay. We’ll be back in a bit. We can go over the play-by-play later.”

He and Jake leave the room and Andy lets out a deep exhale, his stomach roiling. Finished removing the wrap, Ashley drops his right hand, and Andy automatically provides his left.

“You took a hell of a beating out there,” Ashley says softly as he gently unwinds the fabric.

Andy laughs, his jaw aching in protest. He grits his teeth and bites out, “Yeah.”

Ashley’s fingers pause and he cradles Andy’s hand for a moment, massaging his stiff fingers. “I thought he was going to win for a while there,” he says quietly, as if he’s admitting something secretive.

“I did too,” Andy says, closing his eyes and swallowing bile.

Ashley finishes unwrapping his hand in silence. Andy strips out of his shorts and gets in the shower, too out of it to even care that Ashley’s there to see him naked. He stands under the hot water for a minute, head bowed, then hunches over and vomits.

Ashley’s there at his side in an instant, a hand rubbing Andy’s back as he heaves. “Hey, woah, you okay?”

“‘M good,” Andy chokes out. He spits and straightens up under the warm water, and then Ashley’s wiping his face and chest off with a cloth as the nausea comes in waves.

 _Pathetic_ , some part of his brain snarls. Andy is too exhausted and sick to pay it any mind.

After twenty minutes or so, Ashley helps Andy get out of the shower and into his fresh clothes. He’s numb and oversensitive all at once, and the hoodie feels raspy against his skin as he pulls it on.

“Come home with me,” Ashley says.

Andy looks him in the eye. Ashley’s looking back at him, face neutral, and they both know that he’s in no position to crawl back to his own hole in the wall and take care of himself. 

“Okay.”

 

+

 

As soon as they arrive at the apartment, Ashley wordlessly guides him to the queen bed and brings him a bucket.

Andy tries to tell him that he can sleep on the couch, but Ashley insists. “You need to rest, kid. Just take the bed. I’ll wake you up every so often to check in.”

Andy eventually gives in and burrows under the covers for the night. Ashley stays true to his word and rouses him at two-hour intervals, and Andy wakes up to vomit into the bucket three times, choking up nothing but bile and water as Ashley rubs his back.

“Shit,” he mumbles after the second time. His head is pounding and his ribs hurt from the strain. “I’m sorry.” He’s not crying, he’s _not_ , it’s just that his eyes are tearing up because his jaw hurts so bad, he’s missing a tooth, he’s shaky and pukey and sweaty and so exhausted and Ashley— Ashley is just being way too nice about this.

“It’s okay,” he’s reassuring Andy. “I’ve been there too. Just sleep, okay? You’ll feel better in the morning.” He pulls the covers up to Andy’s shoulders and runs a comforting hand over his hair. “It’s okay. Just sleep. We can deal with all of this in the morning.”

When Andy wakes up on his own at 9AM, the blinds have been drawn and the apartment is dim. Ashley is sitting at the counter, writing something, and Gadzooks is watching him from the end of the bed.

“Ashley,” Andy says, his voice coming out gravelly and deeper than usual.

Ashley swivels on his stool. “Morning, sleepyhead. Feel any better?”

“Not really,” Andy responds honestly. His head is spinning and his stomach feels like it’s staging a mutiny against him.

Ashley just smiles. “Let’s get you some toast and water, then.” He’s already up from his chair and at the stupidly-fancy toaster before Andy can protest that he _really should be getting back to the gym to see CC, but thank you._

“I know you’re thinking about training today,” Ashley continues as if reading his mind. “I already talked to CC and Jake, and we all agreed that that’s off the table for at least the rest of the week.”

Andy frowns. “What? No.” He pauses. “I’m fine, Ash. I can still—“

Ashley turns, stopping him with a look. “No, you can’t. You’ve been throwing up all night, and frankly, I’d be surprised if you could manage more than five fucking pushups.”

Andy curses under his breath, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The movement makes him woozy and he breathes through it, ignoring the pointed way Ashley looks at him. “Shit,” he swears. He grabs the bucket just in time to dry-heave into it.

“Case and point,” Ashley says, walking over to his side, but he sounds more concerned than judgemental. He puts a comforting hand on the back of Andy’s neck as he retches.

Andy closes his eyes and spits. He sits up, setting the bucket aside and wiping a hand across his watering eyes. Ashley passes him a Tylenol and he swallows it with a swig of water from the glass beside the bed, then Ashley hands him a green plate with a slide of plain buttered toast, cut in half diagonally. Andy doesn’t have the energy to tease him about it. He obediently begins to eat.

“You can stay here for a couple days,” Ashley offers, his brows slightly knitted together. “Just for a little while. I can keep an eye on you in case you get worse.”

Andy chews and swallows. “I don’t think—“ he starts to protest.

“Andy, don’t be stupid,” Ashley interrupts him. “You’d do the same for me. Gadzooks and I don’t mind playing host for a little while,” he cajoles, coaxing Andy into reluctant agreement.

“Fine,” Andy finally gives in. He tells himself it’s because of his lumpy single mattress at home and the dirty bathroom, not because of the loneliness.

 

+

 

The vomiting gradually comes to a stop by the end of the first day, but the severe headache persists. Andy spends most of his time asleep with Gadzooks curled up at his side. Ashley jokes that he and the cat have bonded through naps and watching shitty horror flicks.

By the afternoon of the second day, Andy is mobile enough that Ashley can go out for a run and a workout without worrying too much about Andy having spontaneously lapsed into a coma upon his return. Andy often awakes with the sheets on the other side of the bed mussed, Ashley having both gone to bed after and woken up long before him.

_need anything while i’m out?_

_bread? TP?_

_you’re running low on tylenol_  
_and gadzooks needs more treats_

_she’s going to get fat!!!_

_stop trying to win her affections with food_

The two of them text about the grocery list for a couple minutes. It’s pretty disgustingly domestic, and Andy says so aloud to Gadzooks as he pets her. She really doesn’t seem to care.

 

+

 

On the fourth day, Andy’s headache is manageable with constant medication, but Ashley still forbids him from going back to training. Andy uses stretching as a poor replacement. CC has come to drop off his winnings from the match with Vic, and Andy sleeps easier knowing he’ll be able to pay his bills for this month.

The bruising on his ribs from the math against Worsnop has almost completely faded away, but the cuts from his more recent bout are still fresh. His jaw clicks when he chews now.

He and Ashley are lying on the bed watching the last half of _The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe’_ on cable with Gadzooks cuddled between them, Andy eating a bowl of greek yogurt and Ashley taking sips of a mint-chocolate protein shake from his orange shaker bottle.

Andy watches Ashley’s fingers as he idly scratches under the cat’s chin. She’s purring. Andy thinks about how he’s seen those hands bloody, seen them light a cigarette, seen them beat someone unconscious. It takes his breath away.

“I used to do drugs,” he says quietly after a moment.

“Hmm?” Ashley turns to look at him with a quizzical look, still petting the cat.

“I did drugs,” Andy repeats. “I was, like, a bad kid. I did cocaine and shit in the school bathrooms, drinking during class. It was messed up. I got in so many fights.” Ashley’s just looking at him as the movie plays on in the background, and Andy can feel his face flushing, but the words keep coming out. “One day a teacher came up to me and asked if I wanted to join the boxing club, so I did, ‘cause it was free and my family was poor. I guess I was pretty good, ‘cause I started going to tournaments and stuff.” He pauses for a second and looks down at his hands before continuing. “One day, some bully at my school started beating some other kid up, and I snapped. I ended up breaking his nose and gave him a shattered elbow and a couple bruised ribs, or something.” Andy exhales a sigh. “I mean, they expelled me for that. Which is fair.”

Ashley nods patiently. “And then?”

“I never went back,” Andy shrugs. “I dropped out, showed up at the nearest gym and demanded that CC train me. After that, I started landing fights and making enough money to skate by on, so I moved out. So, yeah. You wanted to know, and… Yeah. That’s how I ended up here.”

The corner of Ashley’s mouth twitches up. “Bad-boy Biersack, huh?”

“Big time,” Andy chuckles, relaxing a bit. “I was a fucked-up kid.”

“Still are,” Ashley smirks. “Twerp.”

“Fuck you,” Andy jokingly flips him the bird. “What are you, like, five years older than me? I’m twenty-two.”

“That makes us seven years apart,” Ashley corrects him. “Which is a big difference in our line of work.” He takes a swig of the protein shake. “What was Jake when he retired, like, thirty-one?”

Andy laughs. “Jake is also deaf in one ear, half-blind in the other eye and has wicked damage to his rotator cuff. And his left shoulder pops out, like, once a week.”

“Point,” Ashley raises one eyebrow. “I mean, half my teeth are fake and I’ve already got permanent trauma headaches from being whacked around. And wicked cauliflower ear, have you seen this shit?” he motions to his misshapen pinna. “All the more reason to get out while I’m ahead.”

Andy gives him an exasperated look, then turns back to the movie and boosts the volume up a couple notches. He doesn’t like reminding himself that this career can only last for so long.

 

+

 

On day seven, CC and Jake finally give him the go-ahead to get back in the gym. Ashley looks reluctant, but offers to drop him off all the same.

“No sparring,” Jake insists as soon as he sees Andy coming out of the change rooms. “Take it easy, okay? Just do your regular circuit and take breaks if you need them.”

Andy spends a couple hours alternating between stretching, weight training, crunches, push-ups, the treadmill and the speed bag. The blood pounding in his head only aggravates his constant headache, and he’s frustrated that he’s not performing as well as he should be. He wants to be back in the ring with Jake, not stuck doing Russian twists until his abs ache.

He’s quietly seething by the time he gets into the showers, and he’s really not up for visitors when the door opens as he’s washing down.

“Andy?” the voice echoes around the tile room.

“Yeah, in here.”

He turns his head to look as Ashley pokes his head around the corner. “Did everything go okay?”

“Yeah, it was fine.” Andy turns his gaze back around, facing the wall and reaching for the soap. “You? How was Jinxx?”

“He’s fine. Gave me some pointers about my armbar, actually.” Andy looks back at him, and Ashley’s just staring as he soaps up.

“That’s good,” Andy says carefully. He leans his head under the shower nozzle and soaks his hair, running his hands through it.

It’s not the first time Ashley’s seen him naked, but last time he was undressed was also when he was bloody and puking, so not much can be said there. It’s not that Andy’s at all ashamed of nudity, either - he gets sweaty and half-naked for a living, and it’s not like his is the first penis anyone has ever seen in a changing room. He knows he’s in shape, too; he works hard to maintain a certain level of fitness in order to be at the top of his game. It’s just that he’s not used to other guys noticing him in that way. It’s weird and novel, and a little bit exciting. He’s also still not entirely sure what this kind of attention means, coming from someone like Ashley.

“Can I help you, Purdy?” he finally asks, rinsing off his arms.

“Just admiring the view,” Ashley says lightly, teasing.

Andy turns his head enough that Ashley can see the roll of his eyes. He runs his hands down his chest and stomach, the water carrying the soap away. _Locker room banter. Okay._ He can do this.

“See anything you like?” he asks, exaggeratedly sultry.

Ashley laughs. “That’s a cheap line, Biersack. That get you many girls?”

“No,” Andy smirks, letting the water run over his collarbones. “It always works on the boys, though.”

“You really have no shame, do you,” Ashley snorts. Andy turns around, the spray hitting his shoulders, and they make eye contact. Ashley’s sitting on the bench, one ankle casually crossed over the opposite knee as he leans back on his arms.

“So, CC said I can start sparring in a couple days,” Andy says, gently redirecting the conversation. “You could come in, we could go a couple rounds in the ring.”

Ashley frowns. “I don’t think that’s such a great idea. It’s a little soon. I’d be happy to hold the pads for you, though.”

Andy sighs and turns off the water. “I’m not brain dead, Ash. I haven’t fought anyone in a week and I’m going crazy.” He grabs his towel from the hook and wraps it around his hips.

“Let’s compromise. I’ll show you some tips for your kicks, and then you can practice them with me holding the pads, okay?” Ashley relents.

Andy nods. “Okay,” he agrees easily. “Jake’s not coming in tomorrow, so you can teach me some shit in the ring.”

“Sounds good,” Ashley grins.

 

+

 

The training goes well the next day. Andy tries to cajole Ashley into playing a real match with him, but Ashley turns him down, instead opting to use the pads as discussed. The two of them are sweaty and panting afterwards nonetheless, although Andy noticeably more so.

“I hate to say it,” Ashley is saying, taking the pads off as they step down. “but your high kick really needs some work. Jinxx would be ashamed of you.”

“I fight with my fists,” Andy shrugs. “I don’t do a lot of kicking.”

“A well-rounded fighter uses all their assets,” Ashley narrows his eyes. “And when you’re the size that you are, high kicks are especially valuable on shorter opponents. You could have easily taken Fuentes out without getting beaten all to hell.”

“Alright, alright. You don’t have to rub it in,” Andy laughs, taking a swig of water. “You have a point, though.”

“Of course I have a point. I always do.”

Andy grabs his previously discarded workout shirt and uses it to ruffle his damp hair. “That was good,” he finally says, smile wide on his face. “We should do that again.”

“You still have a lot to learn, grasshopper,” Ashley says, taking a swig of water.

There’s the sound of a door opening, and the two of them turn to see CC walking towards them. “Hey, guys. You almost done?”

“Yeah, just finished,” Ashley nods. “What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you, Andy?” CC asks, “Privately?”

Andy nods. “Go hop through the shower,” he addresses Ashley. “I’ll be there in a moment.” Ashley nods, grabbing his stuff and heading to the change room.

“Let’s go to my office,” CC suggests.

Andy puts his shirt back on as they enter the small room. CC sits down in the chair behind his desk, motioning for Andy to do the same.

“What’s going on, man?”

“I don’t know how to say this,” CC says, grabbing a pen and flipping it between his fingers. “Here’s the deal,” he sighs heavily, meeting Andy’s gaze. “Ashley’s management reached out, and they want you two to have a rematch next week.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Andy just says, “What?”

CC shrugs. “I don’t know, man.”

“But I thought…” Andy frowns, processing the information. “Huh. Does Ashley know about this?”

“No. I don’t think so, at least,” CC shakes his head. “The ball’s in our court right now. We can technically say no, but...”

“But then it’s basically a forfeit,” Andy finishes his sentence. “What the fuck, man?”

“I don’t know,” CC says. “I just don’t know. As a friend, I’m seriously asking: how do you want to proceed?“

“I have no idea,” Andy shakes his head. “Fuck, dude. Shit. I don’t… I mean, I don’t want to fight Ashley, he’s...”

CC just nods. There’s a pause and then he says, “We have until tomorrow to say yes or no. Why don’t you go home and decide, then let me know later?”

“I’m sleeping at Ashley’s at the moment,” Andy laughs. “Wow, that’s real fuckin’ ironic.”

“Well,” CC says, “Shit.”

“Shit,” Andy echoes.

 

+

 

That night, Andy brings it up over dinner. He’s expecting Ashley to be confused, or mad, or to ask him to leave.

Instead, Ashley says, “I know. I’ve known for a while, actually. I was waiting for you to make the decision.” When Andy doesn’t say anything further, he adds, “I’ll forfeit, if you don’t want to do this.”

Andy immediately shakes his head. “That’s not what I want, either.”

Ashley shrugs and takes a bite of his pasta. “Well,” he says with a deep breath, “I guess we’re pretty much caught between a rock and a hard place.”

“I’ll let you beat me,” Andy says, even though each word feels like he’s eating glass. He’s never intentionally thrown a match before in his life.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Ashley immediately dismisses him. “Just… Tell CC you’re in, okay? We’ll figure it out.” He smiles, but it’s hardly reassuring. “In the meantime, I guess you can’t stay here anymore. Bad for publicity.”

“Yeah,” Andy agrees. He lowers his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ash. I never wanted—“

“It’s not your fault, kid “ Ashley shakes his head. “It’s just how the game works.”

And so Andy packs up his stuff that night, says goodbye to Gadzooks and Ashley, and that’s that. They don’t see each other again until the night of the match.

 

+

 

Jake has finished wrapping his hands already, and Andy is just slipping on his blue grappling gloves as he limbers up. Upon his insistence, CC and Jake have stepped out to the ring without him, but the match is just about to start.

He’s almost ready to go out when suddenly, the back door to the locker room swings open, and then Ashley is standing there in front of him. He’s wearing black shorts and the red challenger gloves, hair braided back.

“Ashley?” Andy hisses, looking around. “What the f—? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know, I know,” Ashley says urgently. “Listen, Andy, okay? Listen.” Once he’s sure he has Andy’s attention, he takes a breath and says, “You have to knock me out.”

Andy freezes for a moment. “What?” he recoils in realization. “No! I’m not—“

“You _have_ to, Andy. I’ll go easy on you, give you a clear shot when it’s time, okay? We’ll play it out for a bit and then you can take me down. Win-win.”

“No,” Andy shakes his head. “Ash, you can’t—I won’t. That’s not fair.”

“Andy, you have a serious concussion,” Ashley says, his brow knitting together in a frustrated frown. “If you get hit, you’re going to sustain a lot more damage than I will. Just do it, okay? Please. For me.”

“No. I won’t—“

Andy grips him by the shoulders. “Please, Andy. You have to. This is my last fight.”

Andy blinks, confused, and takes a step back. “What?”

“I’m retiring,” Ashley ducks his head. “This is my last fight. After this match, I’m done for good.” He looks Andy straight in the eyes and says, “Please. I want you to beat me. Make it a good one, okay?”

 

+

 

Instead of the usual anticipation as he climbs up into the ring, all Andy feels is sick to his stomach. Jake and CC are standing in his corner, and he high-fives them both before starting to hop. The nerves are there, but they’re different this time.

“You got this,” Jake is saying, but Andy is distracted. “Remember that he’s going to kick, okay? You just have to grab his leg and take him down.”

Andy nods vaguely. “Okay.”

“Give everything you’ve got,” CC claps him on the shoulder. “You can win this.”

Andy’s stomach drops as the referee steps forward and calls Ashley out. He looks down to his feet as Ashley climbs into the ring and bows his head to say something to Jinxx, who claps him on the shoulder. Finally, the referee motions for them to touch gloves.

When Andy looks into Ashley’s eyes, all he sees is deep, fathomless calm. Andy nods once, their knuckles brush, and then they’re back in their respective corners as the referee raises the bell.

_“Fight!”_

It feels like Andy’s feet are doing the work for him by pure muscle memory as the two of them start to dance around the ring. Ashley comes forward and then backs off again. Andy throws a weak punch that Ashley easily blocks. They continue evading each other for another couple minutes, neither wanting to throw the first real blow.

The crowd is yelling, thirsty for action, and when Andy is distracted, Ashley lands a powerful punch to his right side. Andy lashes out at him out of sheer habit, and he catches Ashley on his temple. But instead of going in for a tackle like he normally would, Andy backs off, giving Ashley time to get firm footing again.

Ashley narrows his eyes and rushes at Andy. Somewhere to his left, CC and Jake are shouting, but Andy just blocks his face and allows Ashley to land another kick, this time to his right ribs with a loud _smack_.

Andy reaches out to hit him across his face, but Ashley ducks and sweeps his left leg out from under him. He follows the takedown with a triangle hold, leaning in to breathe, “Fucking fight me, Biersack.”

Andy starts to struggle in his grip, and this time it doesn’t feel fake. His legs curl up and he lands a kick to Ashley’s head, causing him to grunt and loosen his grip enough for Andy to slip out and get to his feet.

Ashley’s nose is bleeding, quickly coating his lips and chin. Andy hardly has time to feel bad before Ashley comes right back at him. Andy focuses on protecting his face, thinks, _One good fight. That’s all he needs. One last, good fight._

Andy growls and ducks as Ashley swings at his head, grabbing him roughly around the waist and easily using his momentum to flip him over his shoulder. Ashley lands on his back, stunned, and Andy goes down after him, starting to hit the sides of his head. He’s trying not to pull his punches but he also doesn’t want to inflict damage.

Ashley knees him in the side and all of a sudden their positions are reversed, Ashley using his own legs to hold Andy’s down. They roll a bit as Andy tries to gain the upper hand, struggling as Ashley holds him in place. He gets an arm free and whacks Ashley in the jaw, shocking him enough to squirm out of his grip. 

He scrambles backwards and gets up to his feet. Ashley wipes a hand across his bloody lower face, smearing red down his forearm. The blood is dripping down his chin and landing on his chest and the mat, and Andy intentionally hardens his gaze as they lock eyes, raising their fists into position.

Ashley’s eyes seem to flash and he runs at Andy, looking for all the world like a blood-smeared avenging angel.

Andy vaguely has time to see Ashley’s leg fly up, faster that any move he’s ever seen, and then he’s knocked backwards by a foot in his sternum. All the wind leaves his lungs and he hardly has time to protect his head before Ashley is assaulting him with blows.

The crowd is going wild at this point. Andy hears Jake yelling “Roll! _Roll!_ ” and so he does, dislodging Ashley from on top of him as he quickly stumbles to his feet, backing up. The two of them go back to circling, trading jabs. Andy meets Ashley’s eyes as he goes in for a quick blow to the stomach, and it’s like the world slows down. Andy’s focusing on the blood on Ashley’s face, the sheen of sweat on his tan skin, the brown of Ashley’s eyes as he imperceptibly lowers his arms, making his head available for a clean hit.

Andy hardly has time to hesitate. He exhales once, takes a short step with his right foot and then his leg snaps up. He feels the impact shudder down his calf as his foot makes contact with the left side of Ashley’s head, and then time freezes as Ashley goes down like a ragdoll.

It’s over.

Andy slumps, nauseous and panting. He looks over at Ashley, lying limp and bloody on the ground, and he falls to his hands and knees and vomits on the mat.

The next thing he knows, CC and Jake are there, pulling him to his feet and handing him water. “You did it,” CC is saying, wiping his mouth free of bile and leading him to the edge of the ring. “You won, Andy. It’s done.”

Andy can’t look back, can’t see Ashley lying there amidst the red splatters on the mat because of him. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and grits his teeth

Despite the noise of the crowd, all he can hear is the deafening sound of Ashley’s body hitting the ground.

 

+

 

Andy rips off his gloves and wraps in the dressing room, pacing and pushing his hands through his hair. CC is trying to comfort him, trying to say _you won, it’s okay_ , but Andy isn’t listening. He’s on the brink of hyperventilating, chest heaving.

“Is he okay?” Andy asks, rubbing his eyes. “Did I—Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Jake nods kindly, grabbing Andy to stop his pacing. “He’s perfectly fine, just a little worse for wear. You knocked the breath out of him, that’s all.” He frowns, looks at Andy and says, “Are _you_ okay?”

“I’m fine,” Andy mumbles. It’s mostly a lie; his head is pounding like his head is going to explode, he’s fighting nausea and he just beat one of the only remaining people who actually care about him into unconsciousness.

“Get in the shower,” CC encourages him. “Just go rinse off, get your head on right. I’m sure Jinxx will let you in to talk to him later.”

Andy shakes his head, gripping his temples, a choked sound coming out of his throat. “I hurt him, CC. I cared about him and then I hurt him, I can’t—“

“Andy, you’re a fighter,” CC patiently interrupts him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Hurting people is what you do for a living. You’re not a murderer, you’re just a good fighter. Ashley is going to be fine. Hes _fine_ , Andy.”

Andy nods silently, rubbing a hand over his face. This feels like a bad dream.

“You want us to stay?” Jake asks softly.

Andy shakes his head. “I’m okay,” he manages to get out after a pause. “I’m just… I’m going to wash off.”

“Okay,” CC nods. “I’ll go take care of the money. Use an ice pack on your right ribs, please.” On second thought, he adds, “You can have tomorrow off, alright? Then it’s back to the gym.”

Andy nods. CC and Jake quietly leave the changing room and then he’s alone, hunched over with his head in his hands. He barely makes it to the toilet before he’s vomiting up water and saliva again.

He wants Ashley there, patting his back, telling him it’s okay but he’s _not_ , because this was his last fight and Andy just beat him up and Ashley is never going to want to see him again and—

Andy stays slumped there in front of the toilet, trying to breathe for a good ten minutes. When he finally composes himself enough to stand, his legs are stiff and shaky. His mouth tastes like acid. 

He eventually makes it to the shower and turns the water on, leaning against the wall under the spray. His ribs are sore and bruised, and at first the water comes away tinged with rusty brown that quickly fades back into transparency.

Andy runs a wet hand through his hair. His head won’t stop fucking spinning. He can’t stop thinking about Ashley’s eyes, how dark and calm they were, the slight twitch of his brow as he prepared for Andy to take him out.

It’s one thing to beat up a stranger in order to make ends meet, but now that Andy has developed a relationship with Ashley, it’s entirely different. He doesn’t want to think about hurting a friend; someone he knows and likes and trusts.

_Make it a good one, okay?_

Andy slams a fist into the shower wall. One of the tiles cracks under the blow, a spark of pain shooting up his arm as his knuckles come away bloody. “Fuck!” His eyes are welling up with tears, a reaction from the pain as he holds his hand to his chest. “Shit. Fucking… Shit.”

The sound of the changing room door opens, reaching his ears, and there are voices discussing something ( _”He’s a little more out of it that usual.”_ ). The door closes and then a familiar voice calls, “Andy?”

Andy freezes, unable to respond to Ashley, just standing under the water, facing the wall and holding his hand.

“Andy, are you okay?” He’s at the mouth of the showers now but Andy can’t even turn around, can’t look him in the face. “Andy, what—…?”

He’s right there now, reaching out to turn off the water, touching Andy’s shoulder. The sound of the shower head dripping echoes through the room. Andy’s breathing is loud.

“Oh, baby,” Ashley says softly, “C’mon, let’s get you dressed.” He gently pulls him away from the wall and over to the bench. Andy’s legs feel stiff and alien but he cooperates, mechanically getting into his soft grey sweatpants and black long-sleeve as Ashley watches in concern. “You okay?”

“I… I’m sorry,” Andy mumbles. “I didn’t—I’m sorry.”

Ashley’s just looking at him with that look in his eyes. “Andy…”

“I’m fine, Ash. It’s fine. I’m sorry that I—that I hurt you. And I understand if you don’t… If you never want to see me again. You don’t have to be here.”

“What?” Ashley frowns, “No, Andy, that’s not—No. Of course I want you to stick around, idiot. You didn’t even hurt me.” It’s ironic, Andy thinks; Ashley’s standing there, comforting him even as he’s covered in cuts and emerging bruises. “Is there something going on? Are you… okay? Is it your head?”

Andy wants to say _Yes, it’s just a headache._ What actually comes out is, “My dad used to hit my mom.” His voice is shaky as he looks down at his bare feet on the locker room floor. “He would get drunk and come home and she would get between us, try to protect me. I always had to clean her up after, and she would make excuses and I—I swore I would never hurt someone like that.” His voice cracks halfway through the sentence. “I told myself I would never be like him, that I… That I wouldn’t hurt someone I cared about. I said… And now.” He swallows, blinking furiously in the silence.

“Andy,” Ashley says, his tone quiet, almost on the edge of broken. “Woah, Andy. I asked you to, okay? I’m fine. And I’m sorry. I should have just forfeited, I didn’t know—…” he trails off. “But you’re not like him, Andy. You’re not.”

Andy doesn’t register Ashley moving but then he’s right there, pulling him into a hug, Andy shaking in his arms and mumbling _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry_.

“It’s okay,” Ashley comforts him. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m fine, alright? I’m tough as nails. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Andy nods into his shoulder and just lets Ashley hold him there for a long time.

“Come back to my place,” Ashley eventually breaks the silence, kissing his temple. “I have ice packs and heating pads and lots of bad movies.” He pauses, then adds, “Gadzooks misses you.”

 

+

 

The ride back to Ashley’s place is quiet, but not uncomfortable. The radio plays softly as the streetlights pass, dipping Andy’s face into shadow and then light and back again.

When they get up to the apartment, Gadzooks immediately trots over to inspect Andy with a curious chirp.

“She really did miss you,” Ashley grins. Andy reaches down to pet her, ruffling her soft head and tickling under her chin. “Haven’t you, little lady?”

Andy cracks a faint, tired smile as she headbutts his hand, then walks away.

Ashley sighs. “You look exhausted, kid. Go to bed, okay? You need the rest.” Andy nods. He feels like he’s falling asleep on his feet. “You want the bed? I can take the couch, if you want.”

“There’s room for both of us,” Andy says quietly. 

Normally, Ashley would make an innuendo here, but as it is, he just nods.

 

+

 

When Andy wakes the next morning, his phone says it’s 10:23AM and Ashley isn’t by his side.

Andy stretches and turns over onto his back, hearing the sound of running water. He dozes back off and wakes up ten minutes later when Ashley emerges from the bathroom, dressed in navy joggers and a faded pink Fleetwood Mac shirt.

“Feeling better?” he asks, tying his damp hair back into a ponytail. Half of his face is bruised, one eye blackened, but he still looks gorgeous even as the guilt twists low in Andy’s stomach.

Andy gives a lazy grunt. “Mmph.”

“I just got back from a morning run,” Ashley explains, walking over to the bed. “I didn’t want to wake you. You’re cute when you sleep.” Andy looks over at him, expecting to see a teasing smirk in his expression, but can’t find one. “Anyways, you wanna have a lazy day today?”

The side of Andy’s mouth pulls up into a sleepy smile. “That sounds perfect.”

So Ashley crawls back into bed. He pats the covers and Gadzooks comes trotting over, and the morning is spent watching _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ and eating cereal with way too much sugar.

It’s nearing noon by the time Ashley flicks off the TV and says, “So, this morning I told Jinxx that I’m not fighting anymore.”

Andy looks at him. “How did he take it?”

“He was cool about it,” Ashley shrugs. “Obviously he wasn’t thrilled, but he understood. Like… I feel bad for ditching him, but I’m still going to go in and train at the gym and stuff. I just won’t put my name forward for matches.”

Andy nods, pensive. “I see. Are you going to go back to work?”

“Maybe. Honestly, I have enough money that I don’t really have to, but I’d like to get back into fashion designing as a hobby. Y’know, now that I have the time.” He runs a hand over Gadzooks’ back. “It’ll be good, Andy. I’m happy my last fight was with you.”

Andy exhales, says, “You should have won. You could have beaten me, easy.” He’s focused on his hands, fiddling with the white bedsheets.

“Nah,” Ashley shakes his head, “It was perfect just the way it played out. And that kick at the end! That was fucking fantastic. I couldn’t have scripted it better.”

“It didn’t feel like a real win, though,” Andy says. “You let me take you down.”

Ashley shrugs again. “It’s just the way it had to go.” They lapse into silence for a moment, and then he asks, “Is that the real reason you started fighting? Your dad?”

Andy keeps his eyes on his hands. “Yeah.”

“And… Do CC or Jake know?”

“No,” Andy shakes his head. “I’ve never told anyone.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine. It’s okay. It’s actually… It’s kind of nice to finally talk about it.” His gaze flicks up to meet Ashley’s and he smiles slightly. “Thank you.”

Ashley nods. “You wanna take a shower? I can get started on lunch.”

“Yeah, I’d love a shower,” Andy laughs. He sits up and stretches, jostling the mattress and waking Gadzooks up. She fixes him with her yellow-green eyes, blinking, and he strokes her head in apology. “You got extra towels?”

“Under the sink.” As Andy ambles over to the bathroom, he calls, “If you jerk off in there, clean up after yourself.”

Andy rolls his eyes and executes a sloppy salute. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

And he honestly wasn’t, but now he’s standing in the shower five minutes later, thinking about ‘jerking off’ in context with ‘Ashley’ and that’s just a whole other can of worms.

Andy sighs and turns the water temperature down to freezing. He’s undeniably fucked.

 

+

 

They spend the rest of the day in a relaxed fashion. Andy’s headache comes back around four in the evening and he pops another Tylenol, then lies in bed waiting for the worst to end as Ashley quietly works on something at the counter.

He ends up drifting off into sleep and is awoken at six-thirty by Ashley gently shaking him awake. “C’mon, let’s eat dinner.”

Andy rubs his eyes and gets out of bed. His head isn’t throbbing like it was before, but there’s still a faint pressure behind his eyes as he shuffles over to the counter, joints cracking.

Ashley passes him a bowl of soup and a spoon. “It’s chicken noodle. I would have asked you what you wanted, but you were, well. Asleep.”

“It’s great,” Andy says, taking a spoonful. “Thank you.”

“So I was thinking I could come by your gym tomorrow,” Ashley says, his tone casual.

Andy swallows and looks over at him. “Yeah?”

“I mean, only if you want me there. We could spar a little bit, if you’re feeling up to it. I’m sure your kicks need more work, too.”

Andy ducks his head, hiding a smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“We can drive over tomorrow morning, then. What time does CC want you there?”

“Uh, usually between ten and eleven.”

“Perfect. You wanna stay over again tonight?”

“I… yeah,” Andy nods. He focuses on the soup for a while, the quiet clanking of his spoon against the bowl the only noise between them. “What are you working on?” he finally asks.

“Boring stuff. Bills.” Ashley pushes the papers aside. “Listen, I just… I wanted to apologize again for the match the other day.” He’s looking Andy directly in the eye. ”I wouldn’t have made you fight if I—if I had known. About what that would bring up for you.”

Andy feels his cheeks flush a little. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’m the one who should be sorry, though. I pretty much just destroyed your career.”

“Sure, sure,” Ashley says, his tone back to teasing. “You may be good, Biersack, but you’re not _that_ good. Not yet, anyways.” He reaches out to ruffle Andy’s hair, and the matter is laid to rest.

 

+

 

The next morning, the two of them walk into the gym at ten-thirty, already changed and ready to go.

“Hey, guys!” CC waves from where he’s talking with Jake by the far wall.

Andy waves back as they approach. “Ashley’s gonna spar with me a little bit today,” he points a thumb in Ashley’s direction. At CC’s narrowed eyes, he adds, “Gently. Gentle sparring. With minimal head contact.”

“Okay,” CC agrees, somewhat reluctantly. “Just be careful and take it easy. We don’t want you getting permanent brain damage.” Andy nods. “Oh, and Ashley - Jinxx called me earlier, told me what’s up. You’re welcome to train here, even if you’re not fighting anymore.”

Ashley nods. “Thanks, man. Means a lot.” He looks to Andy and says, “You ready to warm up?”

They do some stretching before moving on to basic exercises, then making their way around the gym. Andy doesn’t often work out with other people, so it’s nice to have a buddy. Ashley teaches him a brutal new leg routine, too.

They’re towelling off and drinking water by the ring when Ashley says, “Do you really feel up to this?”

“Of course,” Andy scoffs. “I fought you the other day, didn’t I?”

Ashley rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and we both know how that went. Just… tell me if your headache starts to act up, okay?”

Andy nods, handing Ashley a pair of bulky black sparring gloves as he grabs his own. They pull on headgear and step up into the ring. 

“So, just freeform?” Ashley asks. “Keep it easygoing, see where it takes us?”

Andy nods again, hopping on the spot and raising his fists with a grin.

It’s easy to lose himself in the rhythm of a fight. Without the distraction of a bloodthirsty crowd, it’s just him and Ashley. Andy focuses on his own breathing, the faint, niggling headache behind his eyes, the wisps of dark hair framing Ashley’s face.

Andy steps in for a gentle one-two punch that Ashley easily blocks, then steps back again. Ashley’s leg snaps up, hitting Andy’s glove with a resounding _smack_.

They trade tips as they continue the mock-fight, Ashley breathing pointers between punches. “Remember your kicks,” he says, panting. “Come on, kick me.”

Andy winds up for a head kick, half-turning his body to get the necessary momentum. As his leg comes up, Ashley grabs ahold of him behind his knee and pulls him closer, bringing him off-balance. The two of them go tumbling to the floor, Ashley on top.

“Careful,” Ashley laughs breathlessly, close by Andy’s ear. “You’d have been better off with a body kick. I appreciate the effort, though.”

Andy grumbles as Ashley steps back and helps him up by one arm, affectionately ruffling his hair. “I told you, I fight with my fists. My kicks are awful.”

Ashley shrugs, backing up. “You just need more practice. C’mon, kid. Show me what you’ve got.”

Andy narrows his eyes and raises his fists again.

They continue sparring for the next half hour. By the end, the two of them are panting and exhausted. Ashley laughs when Andy takes him down, going without much of a fight and just lying there with Andy on top of him.

Andy can feel Ashley’s chest heaving against his own, flushed and sweaty. “Hell of a match,” he grins. The endorphins are singing through his blood, dulling the pain of his headache as Ashley chuckles from beneath him.

“You doing okay?” Ashley asks casually. “Headache come back yet?”

“I’m fine,” Andy shakes his head. He rolls sideways off of Ashley so that they’re lying on the mat, shoulders touching. “You? Throw out your back?”

“Fuck you,” Ashley snorts. “Asshole.” They lie there for a moment, just breathing. “I’m gonna need a shower after this, I’m so gross,” Ashley says, sitting up.

Andy follows suit, getting to his feet and running a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks. For coming over today, I mean. I had a great time.”

“Yeah?” Ashley grins. “Me too.”

The two of them step down from the ring, walking back to the locker room. Andy holds the door open for Ashley. “We should do this more often,” he says, and then Ashley takes off his shirt, and most of Andy’s attention is immediately redirected to thinking decidedly unsexy thoughts.

The thing is, Ashley’s hot. He’s hot, and funny, and sexy, and Andy shouldn’t be staring, shouldn’t be thinking what he’s thinking because they’re _friends_ , for god’s sakes. Ashley lets him sleep over and cooks him food and spars with him. And sure, they flirt now and then. But it’s… it’s not like that, not even if Andy wanted it to be.

Ashley’s taking off his shorts and underwear, then pulling his hair out of his braids. Andy doesn’t look, instead politely focusing on undressing himself. Ashley walks to the shower room and Andy stuffs his shirt and shorts into his locker, rubbing a hand over his face as the sound of the water starts up. Showering with other guys is just another day in the life. Ashley is no different.

“So do you know when your next fight is?” Ashley’s voice comes floating out from the showers.

Andy steps into the room, hanging his towel on one of the provided hooks on the opposite wall. “No idea. CC told me he’d give me a little extra time off ‘cause of my head, but it could be anytime, really.” He walks over to the shower and turns it on, stepping under the warm water and letting it run over his face as he closes his eyes.

(He reminds himself that this is normal. They’re two athletes in a shower room, for god’s sakes. Ashley doesn’t even like him like that.)

He’s not expecting Ashley’s words when he says, “You should stay with me.”

“...What?” Andy turns to him, frowning quizzically.

Ashley shrugs, rubbing a hand over his chest where the water is running down in rivulets. “You should come stay with me. At my place. I like having you around.”

Andy just looks at him for a long moment. ”Oh,” he eventually manages, reaching for the soap.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Ashley continues. “You could stay as long as you like, but you’d be free to go whenever. No pressure.”

“I… Okay,” Andy says, spreading the lather over his collarbones.

“Okay?” Ashley shoots him a grin.

“Yeah,” Andy shrugs, “Okay.”

 

+

 

After the gym, they drive back to Andy’s run-down little apartment to pick up some of his stuff.

Ashley starts to get out of the car and Andy says, “You don’t, uh. You don’t have to come in. It’s not exactly a nice place.”

Ashley pauses. “I’d like to, if that’s okay.”

“Alright.” They walk towards the ugly brick building and Andy lets them into the dim foyer. The elevator is permanently broken, so they go up the dirty carpeted stairs until they reach the third floor.

The two of them walk down the hall until they reach the door marked _3C_. Andy starts to unlock it, feeling something akin to embarrassment. “You don’t have to come in,” he repeats.

“It’s okay,” Ashley says as the door swings open. He follows Andy inside.

The light takes a second to flicker on after Andy flicks the switch, and Andy isn’t looking at Ashley because he doesn’t want to see his expression. He knows how the place looks; dim, stark and dingy. There are stains on the ceiling, the linoleum is dirty and the walls are a repulsive beige colour that completely misses the mark of ‘home-y’.

Andy says, “I just have to grab a few things, sorry.”

He starts towards the bedroom and Ashley follows, leaning in the doorway. “So this is where the magic happens?”

“It’s not much,” Andy mumbles, gesturing towards the unmade twin bed. He grabs his spare gym bag and starts filling it with clothes.

“It’s nice,” Ashley says, looking around.

“No, it’s really not,” Andy laughs, deprecating.

Ashley huffs a breath. “Sure it is. It’s got you in it.”

Andy turns to fix him with a look, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. “Jesus, Purdy. That’s fuckin’ cheesy as shit.”

“Please,” Ashley deadpans. “I could get in your pants in a heartbeat if I wanted to.”

Andy simply shakes his head in mock exasperation. He wonders if Ashley knows just how right he is.

 

+

 

CC calls later that night, once Andy has moved his meager belongings into one of Ashley’s drawers. Andy picks up the second his phone starts buzzing as he and Ashley are talking after dinner. 

“Sorry, I gotta take this,” he apologizes to Ashley, getting up from the table and walking to stand over by the window. He swipes the screen to answer. “Hey CC, what’s up?”

“I landed you a fight,” CC opens the conversation, not beating around the bush. “The Friday after this one. You’re going up against the Hitman.”

“The… Oh,” Andy echoes in disbelief. “The Hitman?” There’s a pause as he processes the information. “You—You mean you landed _Jaime Preciado_?”

“The one and only,” CC replies, his tone satisfied.

From the table, Ashley says, “Wait, what? You’re fighting the _Hitman_?”

Andy holds a finger up to signify he needs a minute. “Jesus, CC,” he says faintly. “What the fuck? That’s some seriously big-time shit.”

“I know,” CC responds. “It’s going to be great. If you lose, you get the publicity, and if you win…” he trails off.

“I get the biggest paycheck of my fucking career,” Andy finishes for him, head spinning. “Jesus. Fucking… Wow. Holy shit.”

“You’re in the big leagues now, Andy.” CC’s voice is excited. “You can do this, man. You can really fucking do this. We just have to train. I’ll get Jake in more the next few weeks, and we can see if Jinxx will stop by, teach you a few new strategies. We’ll watch more tapes. You and Ashley can hard-spar, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Shit,” Andy says, and now he’s laughing. “Oh my god, CC, you actually—We’re doing this. Holy fuck! You’re the best manager in the fucking world!” He’s vibrating with energy, unable to keep a smile off his face.

“Alright. Jake and I will see you tomorrow, okay? Bright and early. We’re going to train, and we’re going to train hard.”

“Fuck yeah,” Andy agrees. “See you tomorrow.” He hangs up and looks to Ashley, grinning ear to ear. “We landed the Hitman! Next Friday!”

Ashley’s smiling back, says, “Woah. That’s a huge fight, you think you can beat him?”

“I don’t know,” Andy admits, shaking his head as he walks back to the table where Ashley’s sitting. “But I can sure as hell put up a fight.” Softer, he looks to Ashley and adds, “Will you help me train?”

“Of course, kid. When I’m done with you, you’ll be beating the Hitman’s face into the mat without a second thought.” He reaches out to cuff Andy’s arm, fingers lingering on his elbow a half-second longer. “You’re really making your way to the top, aren’t you?”

Andy ducks his head. “That’s the plan. World domination, and all that.”

Ashley grabs his arm and pulls him closer, winding an arm around his waist. “I’m proud of you,” he says to Andy’s stomach, leaning his forehead against him.

Andy pets Ashley’s hair. He knows it should be weird, but it’s not. “Thanks. I want you in my corner, okay?”

Ashley tilts his head to look at him. “Alright,” he nods. “I’ll be there.”

 

+

 

The next two weeks are hell, and Andy wouldn’t change a single second of it.

His headache has faded a lot, which makes training all day much easier. Ashley is a constant presence with him at the gym. The two of them spar, strategize, watch tapes and workout together at all times as Jake and CC oversee the whole process with an approving eye.

Andy feels like he’s pushing himself harder than he ever has in his career—maybe in his life. It helps to have Ashley there, as well as a soft bed to fall into at the end of the day.

On the Wednesday before the fight, he and Ashley are sitting at the apartment counter, drinking banana-flavoured protein shakes after a run when Ashley says, “Are you nervous?”

Andy sets down his shaker bottle. “No, I don’t think so. I… I’m ready. We’ve trained so much,” he nods. “And I’ve got CC and Jake and you in my corner.”

Ashley shoots him a fond smile. “You’ve got this. Preciado may be a force of nature, but you’re the fucking Prophet, kid. Don’t you forget that.”

 

+

 

Friday comes, bringing with it the anticipation of the fight. Andy’s getting ready in the locker room, the guys all mulling about, providing background chatter. Even Jinxx has stopped by to watch him fight.

Andy’s pacing beside the benches as he gets into the zone, headphones playing his pump-up playlist; he doesn’t listen to music all that often before a fight, but for a big match like this one, he needs the noise in order to block out his thoughts.

Jake taps him on his bare shoulder, holding up the wraps. “Want me to do you up?”

Andy nods, taking out his headphones. He turns and stops walking so Jake can get started, watching as he starts making a pad for Andy’s left knuckles. Jake is quiet as he works through the familiar routine. He’s finishing up by wrapping Andy’s right thumb by the time he finally speaks.

“You ready?” Jake asks softly.

Andy nods, one half of his mouth twitching up distractedly. “Yeah, man.”

“Work on your blocking, okay?” Jake advises him. “And if the time is right, use kicks. I know we planned out a whole strategy, but go with your gut, okay? I believe in you.” He claps Andy on the arm, a firm smile on his features.

“Yeah,” Andy sighs, “Yeah.” CC and Ashley have stopped talking, instead turning to face him.

“Ten minutes ‘til go-time,” CC says. “Preciado’s out there, you want me to go scope him out?”

Andy shakes his head no. “It’s fine.”

He puts his headphones back in and resumes pacing, shaking out his arms. Across the room, he sees Ashley cross his arms, biting his lip. It’s an uncharacteristic display of nerves. Andy kind of wants to be the one biting Ashley’s lip instead.

At the five minute mark, CC starts giving him pointers and rehearsing the game plan; Andy nods along, but he’s not really listening. He picks up the red challenger gloves from the bench and slips them on, and then it’s time to go.

He hears his name being called out as he approaches the mat, the guys behind him as he steps up into the ring. There are maye seventy people milling about in the crowd, all watching him. The Hitman is talking to a tattooed guy in his corner, jumping lightly on his feet.

CC puts his hand on Andy’s shoulder, says, “You can do this, okay?”

“I can do this,” Andy repeats. “I can fucking do this.” He shakes out his arms, starting to hop. Jake hands him his water bottle and he takes a swig, then hands it back, making eye contact with Ashley. The adrenaline is rushing already, blood pounding in his ears as the fight draws nearer. 

“We’re in your corner the whole time,” Ashley says, leaning in to tip their foreheads together. “You’re going to kick his ass.”

Andy nods, their heads bumping together. “I can do this.”

He turns to the referee and Jake slaps him on the back. The three of them climb out of the ring. Andy looks back, makes eye contact with Ashley. He nods once, firmly, and then Andy turns to face Preciado.

The man is built like a boxer: broad shoulders, muscled chest and thick arms. Andy has half a head on him in height, but Preciado is beyond experienced, and Andy knows reach alone won’t be enough to win this.

Andy’s gaze is stormy as the two of them step forward to meet in the centre of the ring with the ref, who says something Andy doesn’t pay attention to. The Hitman grins widely at him. They brush knuckles, making eye contact all the while, and then they’re back in their respective corners as the ref raises the bell. Andy’s vision narrows down, his breathing coming fast and steady.

The bell rings.

Preciado immediately lunges forward, swinging at him with a quick blow that Andy blocks and counters with one to the head. The two of them back off and they circle each other for a moment, just figuring each other out. Andy goes in and swings his knee up, but Preciado dodges and pushes him back. Andy stumbles for a second and then he’s firmly on his feet, fists raised, waiting for his opponent to come at him.

The crowd starts to get impatient as they go around the ring, drawing together and then backing up. Preciado’s eyes flicker sideways for a split second and Andy thinks, _Let’s get this show on the road._

He charges towards his opponent, coming in with a wide swing that Preciado easily blocks, then raises his leg up for a vicious kick to the side of his opponent’s knee while he’s distracted. Preciado almost loses his footing, then bounces back at the last second. He’s grinning, fists up as he comes at Andy.

Andy is expecting it and tries to block accordingly, but Preciado still manages to land a rapid flurry of blows to his head and arms. Through the onslaught, Andy feels a stinging cut split open on his temple. He lashes out against Preciado, who jumps nimbly back out of range.

From his corner, Andy hears CC yelling to go for the body. He takes a breath and dives back in, practically running at Preciado and swinging out to catch him in the ribs. He’s thinking about the moves he’s honed, the strategies they’ve planned. His mind is racing a mile a minute, leaping between the blood trickling down to his jaw, the rhythm of Preciado’s feet as he bounces, the yelling from the crowd. Andy won’t kid himself; he knows they’re all cheering for his opponent and not himself.

Preciado feints forward and then the opposite fist lashes out to whack Andy firmly in the stomach. A surprised puff of air escapes Andy’s lips. Preciado takes the opportunity to duck down and wrap his arms around Andy’s waist, his shoulder positioned firmly against his abdomen. Andy tries to squirm out of the hold, but before he knows it, he’s falling to the mat with Preciado pinning him down.

Andy hears CC shouting advice, hears Jinxx telling him to _“Kick, goddamn it, KICK!”_ but Preciado is bearing down on him, clobbering him over the head.

Andy has the wherewithal to bring his arms up and protect his face. Preciado’s blows are devastating nonetheless, and he accidentally bites his lip as a punch hits his jaw, blood filling his mouth. He’s trying to get out, wriggling for all he’s worth, but Preciado’s hold is strong and his thighs are effectively pinned down.

Finally, Andy sees an opening. He jerks his body up and slams his head into Preciado’s, who is briefly stunned enough for him to slip one leg up and knee him in the chest.

Preciado falls backwards and Andy scrambles to his feet. There’s blood running down the side of his face and more down his chin. He wipes his face on his forearm, leaving a smear of bright red across his skin. 

Preciado isn’t smiling anymore.

The crowd is going wild at the sight of blood as the two of them draw back together, Preciado trying to throw him again. Andy sees it coming and lands a hard blow to Preciado’s ear, then kicks his left knee. His opponent buckles to one side and Andy punches him again, knocking him off-balance enough to take him down.

Andy traps him, clinging onto him as Preciado thrashes, not giving him the opportunity to free his arms enough to fight back. They struggle, Andy shifting minutely in order to keep his hold as Preciado tries to escape.

Jake is yelling in the background. Andy hardly hears him above the noise of the crowd, instead focusing on holding Preciado, who is jamming his knee up to dislodge Andy.

Andy holds on and they roll for a moment, each trying to stay on top. Preciado’s right arm gets loose and then he’s cuffing Andy over the head with a powerful hit, knocking him off to the side and straddling his chest.

Andy can hardly fight back as Preciado pummels him. His opponent’s fists are flying, crashing into his head and face with brute force. He’s trying to kick, trying to find a way to throw Preciado off even as a glove hits his nose and it sprays flecks of ruby blood. The crowd is egging on the Hitman, cheering as he lays into Andy.

_Shit._

Andy growls and turns his body to the right, jostling Preciado and giving him a window to pull his legs up and kick his opponent in the chest, knocking him back as he staggers to his feet. One eye has gone blurry—presumably from either blood or sweat—and he’s breathing roughly from his mouth, left ear ringing, but his focus has reduced to nothing but the two of them in the ring. 

By now, Preciado is back on his feet. He’s in way better shape than Andy is, and he’s staring Andy down with inscrutable eyes, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

Andy smirks through the blood and raises his fists.

As Preciado hurtles towards him, time seems to slow down. Andy watches his opponent’s right fist come up to try to catch him in the face. He quickly ducks to grab around the backs of Preciado’s thighs, physically lifting him in the air and using his momentum to throw him to the mat, coming down hard on top of his body.

Preciado grunts as he hits the mat with a loud _boom_ that echoes through the gym. Andy wastes no time in beginning to repeatedly strike him at the temples, detachedly watching his own gloves hammering into flesh as blood starts to flow. Preciado keeps struggling, but he’s stunned and weak. 

It’s futile.

Andy rains blows down upon him until Preciado stops moving underneath him and the ref bodily shoves him out of the way. He falls to the side on his knees, exhausted and momentarily disoriented. Suddenly, CC is in his face and Jinxx is pulling him to his unsteady feet, clapping him on the back.

Just like that, the fight is done.

“You did it!” CC is congratulating him, voice seeming muffled as he roughly wipes at Andy’s face with a cloth that comes away red. “You won, Andy, you fucking _won_!”

Andy grins and raises one fatigued arm in the air amidst the booing of a crowd of people who just lost their money.

“You okay?” Jake asks, coming up beside him with a hand on his shoulder.

Andy just nods, the smile not leaving his face. CC pulls away with the cloth and Andy turns around to see the medic hovering over Preciado, who is slowly rising back into consciousness.

Ashley is standing beside Jinxx, an odd expression on his face. “Shit, kid. That was a wicked takedown.”

Andy laughs and pulls him in for a sweaty, one-armed hug. “Fuck. That was—Fuck.”

“I’ll walk you to the lockers,” Ashley says. He looks to the other guys and says, “I got this. You guys can do money and crowd control. We’ll talk it over later.”

As Ashley helps Andy to shuffle over to the edge of the ring, Preciado is sitting up on the mat, drinking water.

“Good match,” Andy stops to say in passing. “Thanks. You’re really good.”

Preciado’s grin returns, grudging admiration in his voice when he says, “You too, man. It was a good fight.” He extends a fist, and Andy gently knocks it with his own before turning to step down from the ring.

Ashley plays the role of bodyguard by shoving angry members of the crowd away as they make their way to the locker room. Andy’s legs are shaky, but he keeps his head up, a smile tugging at his lips. He won, after all. This was the biggest fight of his life, and he _won_.

He pulls the changing room door open and walks inside, Ashley right behind him. The door swings shut, muffling the angry yelling from outside.

“Shit,” Andy says with a laugh of disbelief, pulling off his grappling gloves and tossing them on the bench. “I… Shit.” He rips off the wraps underneath and starts shaking out his stiff fingers, turning to face Ashley as he bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet, eyes alight. “I can’t—We won! We _won_ , Ash! We took down the fucking Hitman!” He’s right in Ashley’s personal space now, excitedly gripping his shoulders.

Ashley swallows. His voice is rough when he says, “You fought well. It was—... You did good, kid.” His eyes are flicking over Andy’s features at lightning speed. Andy wonders if he’s imagining the way his gaze lingers on his lips.

“Shit,” Andy utters softly, for lack of anything better to say. The post-fight endorphins are coursing through his system and he feels on top of the world, no matter how sore and bruised. “Ashley—“ he finally manages, then cuts himself off, hands falling from Ashley’s shoulders.

“Andy,” Ashley says. “Andy, I—” He licks his lips and the two of them are standing there, too close to be casual. 

Andy’s pulse is hammering in his ears. He thinks, _is this it?_ and then his breath hitches as Ashley leans in to press their mouths together.

It’s an unexpectedly soft, lingering kiss. Their noses bump a bit awkwardly. Ashley pulls back, looks down and says, “I—Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Andy says softly. He’s stunned, still sweaty and bloody from the fight and his best friend just kissed him. “Can I—?” He reaches out to gently hold Ashley’s jaw and leans back in, slow enough that Ashley has the option to back out.

He doesn’t.

Their lips meet again, less tentatively this time. Ashley’s mouth is hot and wet and open against his, hands coming up to rest on Andy’s biceps.

“Fuck,” Andy whispers between them.

“Fuck,” Ashley agrees, then seals the gap once more, this time needy.

Andy makes a low sound in his throat and kisses back just as passionately. “God, I didn’t—didn’t even think you liked me like that.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Ashley chuckles. “You’re so fucking oblivious, fuck. You were so hot in the ring, god, wanted you ever since you beat me up that first time.”

“Shit,” Andy laughs hoarsely, “Really? I thought you were just—”

“Jesus, Andy,” Ashley interrupts him. “I invited you to move in with me, I hardly think I was being subtle.” Before Andy can say anything more, Ashley cuts him off by pressing their mouths together.

“I should shower,” Andy says a minute later between kisses. “I think you should come with me.”

“Are… Are you sure? Is this too fast?”

Andy rolls his eyes. “It’s been six months, Ashley. Of course I’m fucking sure. Or are you so old you can’t get it up anymore?”

“Trust me, we do _not_ have that problem right now,” Ashley snorts. His eyes are dark—darker than usual—as he nods and steps back, walking a few steps over to the locker room door and flipping the lock shut.

Andy immediately pulls him back in like a magnet. He’s unable to keep his hands off of Ashley, rucking up his shirt and running his hands over the expanse of hot skin and that stupid fucking tattoo—

Ashley laughs and pulls away enough to yank the offending article of clothing over his head. “Better?”

“Better,” Andy confirms breathlessly. He unceremoniously shucks his shorts and kicks them to the side before pulling Ashley back in, now half hard and fully unclothed as their mouths move together. Ashley’s hands come up to firmly grip his hips and press their bodies flush against each other.

Andy gasps a little at the friction. He breaks the kiss and fumbles with the waistband of Ashley’s track pants, clumsily yanking at the drawstring until it unties and proceeding to yank them down along with his underwear. “This okay?” he mumbles against Ashley’s jaw, nipping lightly.

Ashley kicks his shoes off and steps out of his pants, leaving them in a crumpled heap. “Perfect.” He’s naked now, and Andy’s mind is racing with all the tan skin and hard muscle he wants to touch, lick, mark with hickeys. He doesn’t have time to properly admire Ashley’s impressive physique before they’re kissing again, clumsily stumbling in the direction of the showers.

The white tile is cold and wet beneath Andy’s bare feet, but he’s too wrapped up in Ashley to notice or care. Andy reaches out blindly to turn the water on, successfully drenching them both under the lukewarm spray as they kiss. He pulls back, laughing as the water quickly heats up.

“What do you want to…?” Ashley asks softly, cocking his head slightly.

“I don’t care,” Andy says, smiling. “I just want you.”

“Sap,” Ashley huffs, kissing him once more. His hand trails down over the flat plane of Andy’s chest, over his stomach and down to roughly stroke his cock. Andy gasps softly at the contact, bowing his head.

“Shit. It’s… Oh, fuck. It’s been awhile,” he chokes out.

Ashley laughs teasingly, but it’s not mean. He leans in to mouth at Andy’s collarbone, licking over the pale, wet skin. “I’m going to…” he trails off. Ashley licks his lips, meets his eyes and sinks down to his knees on the tile floor.

“Oh, shit,” Andy faintly hears himself say. Because _fuck_ , Ashley looks good like that, wet and naked and on his knees but still so in control. He’s still stroking Andy’s cock, smirking slightly, and Andy’s brow creases as he mumbles, “Fuck, Ash, please—”

Ashley’s tongue darts out across his lips and then he leans in, one hand hot on the wet skin of Andy’s right hip bone as the other guiding Andy’s cock to his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Andy grunts as Ashley properly swallows him down, “Oh, fuck, Ash.” He has one hand splayed out on the tile wall for support, the other gripping Ashley’s wet hair as his head bobs. Ashley’s mouth is slick and pyretic around him, and it takes all of Andy’s willpower not to thrust forward and accidentally choke him. He dimly registers that he’s chanting; a litany of _please, please, fuck, please_ spills unfiltered from his lips, eyes screwed shut and head tilted backwards.

Ashley hums and pulls up a bit. He does a swirling motion with his tongue that makes Andy see stars. “Shit, shit, shit,” he gasps softly, letting go of the wall to bite his knuckle in an effort to silence himself.

Ashley pulls off with an obscene pop and says, “I want to hear you. Want you to be loud.” His voice is coarse and his lips are red and shiny with saliva as he looks up, and Andy almost loses it right there.

“Jesus,” he groans, the noise echoing around the room. Ashley smirks and leans back in, and Andy’s speech devolves into indistinct mumbling. His hand twists where it’s buried in Ashley’s sopping hair and Ashley moans a little around his cock, Andy stuttering out, “I—I’m gonna, Ashley, I’m gonna—”

Ashley takes the hint and pulls off, still stroking Andy’s cock just the right combination of fast and rough, and Andy comes entirely undone.

Ashley strokes him through his release. When Andy’s eyes finally flicker open—when had he closed them?—Ashley’s looking calmly up at him, chest painted with come, flecks of it on his chin.

He’s never looked quite this beautiful before.

“Sorry,” Andy says awkwardly, motioning to the mess and effectively ruining the moment.

Ashley laughs, cracking a smile as he clambers to his feet. “No problem.” He absently wipes a hand over his lower face, succeeding in smearing it around more than actually getting it off. “That was hot. Killer on the knees, though.” He steps closer, positioning himself under the spray and rinsing off. “I don’t do that for just anyone, you know. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Andy’s cheeks flush. He’s still in a post-orgasmic haze. “Do you, uh. Do you want me to…?” he asks, gesturing to Ashley’s still-hard cock.

Ashley looks back at him, considering. “You don’t have to.”

“Trust me, I want to,” Andy laughs.

“Okay, then. You can just jerk me off, though.”

Andy doesn’t need further prompting. He shifts closer and they’re kissing again under the water from the shower, Ashley’s body firm and muscular against his own. He reaches between them to grasp Ashley’s cock where it’s pressed against his thigh, finding the skin smooth and hot beneath his hand. “This okay?” he asks between their mouths, beginning to pick up a rhythm.

Ashley presses his forehead to Andy’s shoulder, breathing curses. “Fuck, kid.” Andy grins and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Ashley’s neck, speeding up the motions of his hand.

He continues until Ashley begins to pant erratically near his ear as he mutters a string of profanity, fingers digging in where he’s gripping at Andy’s biceps. “I can’t, I’m—” he gasps abortively, and then he’s coming, shuddering and spilling into Andy’s fist.

The two of them stand there under the spray for a long moment afterwards, leaning on each other as they catch their breath.

“We should get back out there,” Andy finally says.

“We should,” Ashley agrees. He pulls back, looking Andy in the eye and adds, “We’re not done with this, Biersack.”

Andy smirks. “Whatever would have given you that impression?”

 

+

 

Somehow, they manage to stop trading kisses long enough to get their clothes back on and meet up with the guys outside of the locker room. Jake gives Andy a long look, but doesn’t say anything. Andy wonders if it’s that obvious that he just got the best blowjob of his life.

The debrief of the fight seems to stretch on forever, and Andy nearly groans in relief when CC finally wraps it up, telling him to go home and take the day off to rest up tomorrow. “I’ll see you Sunday at the gym, okay?”

“Sure,” Andy says, trying to be inconspicuous.

Jake looks like he’s about to say something more, but before he can open his mouth, Ashley swings an arm around Andy’s shoulders with a cheery grin and says, “Well, we’re off. Bye! Goodnight!”

He promptly proceeds to steer Andy away from the group, the two of them rushing to get out to Ashley’s car, which is parked a couple blocks away.

Ashley hits the unlock button on his key fob and the two of them climb in. “That really was a great fight,” he finally says, starting the car.

Andy grins back. “Damn fucking right.”

Ashley turns on the radio, and the short ride back to the apartment is spent mostly in silence. Andy is practically vibrating with energy, feeling like a randy teenager as they park and make their way up to the apartment.

The moment the front door closes behind them, he pulls Ashley in for a bruising kiss, hands gripping the sides of his face.

Ashley grins against his lips and kisses him back, clumsily kicking off his shoes. “Bed?” he mumbles.

“Bed,” Andy confirms, his voice low. He toes off his own sneakers and the two of them stagger blindly in the direction of the mussed sheets.

“Just one second,” Ashley says, breaking the kiss, “Not in front of the kid.” He bends to pick up an indignant Gadzooks and carry her to the bathroom, where he gently sets her down and closes the door. She meows once, forlornly, then accepts her fate.

Andy’s sitting in the middle of the bed with his legs outstretched as Ashley comes back. “You should never wear a shirt,” he says, to which Ashley laughs and strips it off. He climbs up on the bed so that he’s kneeling on either side of Andy’s hips, and Andy’s hands come up to slide across all of that beautiful, tattooed skin exposed in front of him as they kiss. He hums a little in appreciation. His dick is definitely taking an interest in the proceedings.

“How d’you want to, uh,” Ashley asks, mouthing at his jaw.

Andy’s hands pause on his ribs and he says, “Don’t really care.”

Ashley nods. “I have supplies, if you want to… to go all the way. We don’t have to. We can take it slow. I could blow you again, or… You know. It’s up to you.” His expression is calm and oddly tender as he meets Andy’s gaze.

Andy’s mouth quirks up into a grin. “I think I want you to fuck me.” And dammit, now is not the time to start blushing.

Ashley laughs, a soft, breathless sound, and he ducks in for another kiss. “Have you…?”

“A couple times. A while ago.”

Ashley nods. “Okay. If you’re sure. Do you—Do you want to bottom?” Andy nods. “Okay. Okay, we can do this.” He reaches down to the hem of Andy’s shirt and starts working it off, Andy obediently assisting him in pulling it over his head before tossing it somewhere on the floor.

“Shit,” Ashley exhales. He leans back in to capture Andy’s lips, then shifts so he’s beside him rather than on top of him. “Pants off is a good place to start,” he suggests.

Andy has no objections. He fumbles with the drawstring of his joggers, then raises his hips enough to slide them down his thighs and kick them off along with his boxer briefs. He’s mostly hard already, just from kissing and having Ashley so close.

Ashley is leaning off the side of the bed, rummaging in the nightstand drawer. Andy’s brain short-circuits when he pulls out a bottle of lubricant and a foil condom packet.

 _This is really happening,_ he thinks dumbly.

Ashley tosses the two objects on the sheets and quickly shucks off his own pants, carefully looking at Andy. “Good?”

It’s very possible Andy has never wanted to do something so bad in his life. He nods fervently and says, “God, yes. Please.”

Laughing, Ashley moves in front of him. “Alright, alright. You like hands and knees, or...?”

Andy shrugs. “I don’t know, doesn't matter. I, um. I'd like to be able to see you, if that's okay.”

“Okay,” Ashley replies, eyes dark in contrast to his grin. “Alright, yeah. We can do it like this.”

He leans forward and kisses Andy, deep and passionate, then grabs the lube.

He’s slow and methodical throughout the prep. For the most part, it’s only ever uncomfortable, as opposed to painful, like other times that come to mind. By the time he’s finally lining up and pressing in, Andy is flushed head to toe and feeling thoroughly relaxed. 

“Shit,” he can’t help but to gasp at the intrusion.

Ashley pauses his movements completely, considerately giving Andy’s body time to adjust. “Okay?”

“‘M fine,” Andy nods, biting his lip. “It’s… Yeah. It’s a little uncomfortable.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ashley says, a hint of strain in his voice. “Fuck, you’re hot like this.”

Andy lets out a choked sound. “Just—Just move, okay, you can keep going. Please.” The stretch burns a bit, but it’s not unmanageable. He likes the feeling.

“You sure?” Ashley frowns, uncertain.

“Yeah, just go. It’s fine.”

Ashley continues his slow push forwards, Andy breathing deep and steady. It’s not bad, but it’s not quite good yet, either. He focuses on the discomfort as Ashley presses kisses to his neck. Once he’s all the way in, he stops and tells him, “Let me know when you’re good to go.”

“I’m fine,” Andy insists, “Just—Start going, alright, I’m fine.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Ashley says. His hair is falling loose and mussed around his face, giving his expression a wild quality.

Andy huffs a breath. “I’m a fighter, for god’s sakes. I’m not going to break.” He falters for a second, closing his eyes and swallowing. “I like it when it hurts.”

Ashley makes a surprised little sound. “What—Really?” he laughs. “Fuck, Andy.” Nevertheless, he starts moving his hips, tentatively at first; he carefully gages Andy’s expression and then begins snapping forward at a brisk pace.

Andy’s breathing hitches as Ashley draws out and shoves back in again. His teeth clench at the smooth slide, the unfamiliar stretch, at the feeling of having Ashley so close. “Fuck,” he whispers.

Ashley leans in to press a kiss to his lips, deep and dirty. “You feel so good,” he says, voice low. “You look so fucking gorgeous like this, Andy, all stretched open on my cock.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Andy all but moans. Ashley’s voice was made for dirty talk. “You—Fuck,” he stops himself, feeling stupid as a wanton sound escapes his throat unbidden. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ashley grins and mouths at Andy’s pulse. “Be as loud as you want, kid. It’s just you and me.”

Andy’s breath is coming fast, tension building in his abdomen, a feeling of pleasure resonating through his entire body. He groans loudly. “Fuck, fuck. That’s—That’s it, there.” The pleasure is just on the edge of pain. It’s perfect. He groans again, this time loud in the apartment. “Ashley, Ashley, please—” he manages, not even sure what he’s begging for.

Ashley bites gently at his neck. “That’s it, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, fuck, feels so—Shit, I don’t even,” he pants, “I didn’t even know, nobody’s ever really—”

Grinning wickedly, Ashley leans in and kisses the words from his mouth. “So good, Andy,” he breathes between their lips. “So fucking hot. You’re perfect, baby.”

Andy nearly whimpers as Ashley roughly shoves in again, the sound caught in his throat as he screws his eyes shut. “Can you—... Touch me, please.”

Ashley laughs, a warm puff of air against Andy’s lips as he reaches down between their bodies to grasp Andy’s leaking cock in hand. “Like this?”

“Yeah, shit,” Andy gasps. “Just— Faster, please.”

Ashley hums. He’s quick to obey, timing the movements of his hand to the thrusts of his hips until Andy is strung taut, incomprehensible sounds falling from his mouth as his hands flex in the sheets by his sides. He can feel Ashley, in front of him, inside of him and all around.

“Good?”

“That’s—Ah, yeah,” Andy nods, swallowing. “Fuck.” 

Ashley twists his wrist just right and Andy’s hips jerk up, inhaling sharply. A deep groan is pulled from his throat. The apartment is quiet except for the faint noise of traffic outside and the sound of skin against skin, Andy’s breathing loud in his own ears.

“Shit,” Ashley says, leaning his head against the side of Andy’s neck. He’s breathing hard, mouth open and wet. “Are you—?”

“Close,” Andy mumbles breathlessly. “I’m—“

“Come for me,” Ashley says, thrusting in a few more times with rough strokes of his hand, and then Andy lets go. He shudders and comes onto his stomach between them, like a blinding bolt of electricity running through his body. “Oh, fuck.”

After a moment of going absolutely boneless, he belatedly realizes Ashley hasn’t come yet. “Do you want me to—? You can keep going, if you, uh…”

“It’s okay, I can just...” Ashley says, slowly pulling out. “Sorry,” he apologizes as Andy makes a face at the sensation. He slides the condom off and ties it with practiced ease, tossing it aside.

“C’mere,” Andy beckons him up the bed. He pulls Ashley in for a deep kiss, Ashley somewhat straddling his relaxed body with one leg between Andy’s. “You can, um. You can come on me, if you want. Or I could blow you.”

Ashley laughs softly. “As hot as that mental picture is, let’s just grind like horny teenagers for now, okay? We have time for all the rest later.”

Andy grins, happy and sated. He reaches up to run his hands over the hot skin of Ashley’s broad shoulders as their mouths move together. Ashley rolls his hips and sighs, grinding down on Andy’s thigh. “Shit, the things I could do to you.”

If Andy hadn’t just come, he probably would have been hardening again. As it is, he simply files that information away for later, tilting his head in for another bruising kiss as he slides a hand between them to stroke Ashley’s cock.

Ashley groans softly, mouthing at Andy’s collarbone with a hint of teeth. His hair is obscuring his expression, but Andy can see the furrow of his brow, the glistening curve of his lower lip as his breathing comes sharp and ragged.

It doesn’t take much longer before Ashley’s rutting desperately down on him. “Andy, I’m gonna—“ he exhales, and then his body goes tense as he comes into Andy’s fist with a low moan. “Shit.”

Andy strokes him through his release. Ashley goes limp, laughing, and collapses beside him on the bed. “Wow,” he says, catching his breath.

“Wow,” Andy agrees. “That was—Wow.”

The two of them just lay there for a long moment, looking up at the high ceiling before Ashley says, “I, uh. I’ll get a cloth.”

“Okay,” Andy chuckles. His stomach and hand are a mess, but he refrains from wiping them off on the sheets.

Ashley gets up and rummages around in the kitchen, still naked. He returns a moment later with a damp paper towel and starts gently wiping at Andy’s stomach. “So, uh. You like rough sex.” The way he says it is cautious, but it’s not a question.

Andy feels his cheeks flush. “I mean—... Yeah. I guess I do.”

Ashley arches an eyebrow. “Huh.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Andy shrugs, embarrassed. “I just like it for some reason. Daddy issues, I guess. If you don’t... I mean, I’m fine with anything.”

“Oh, no,” Ashley shakes his head, “That’s not what I meant at all. I fucking loved that, okay? It was really hot. And I think— Well. I just wanna figure out what you like, I guess.” He looks down where he’s wiping at Andy’s hand and says, “If you want to keep doing this, that is. No pressure.”

“Jesus. Don’t get insecure on me now, Purdy. Of course I want to keep going. I…” Andy exhales, “I kind of really like you.” There’s a pause. “Shit, was that weird?”

“Not at all,” Ashley grins, swooping in for a kiss. “I kind of really like you too.” He finishes wiping Andy off and throws out the paper towel and the condom, lets Gadzooks out of the bathroom and then comes back to bed. “You should know that I like to cuddle after awesome, mind-blowing sex,” he says matter-of-factly, climbing in beside Andy and pulling the covers over them.

“I’m amenable to the idea,” Andy says quietly, smiling contentedly.

“See? That shit right there, that’s why I like you. You use big words even after having your brains fucked out. Who even says ‘amenable’?” Ashley teases him, the two of them shifting so that their bodies are curled together, Andy as the little spoon.

Ashley presses a kiss to the side of Andy’s cheek and says, “Do you mind if we just sleep for a while?”

“Don’t mind one bit,” Andy replies, his tone drowsy.

They drift off like that, the slow rise and fall of Ashley’s breathing a steady rhythm where he’s pressed against Andy’s back.

 

+

 

When Andy awakes the following day, the sheets are tangled around his waist and Gadzooks is sniffing at his face. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s one o’clock. He’s on his back with Ashley’s arm wrapped around his waist, their legs intertwined.

“Hey, little lady,” he greets the cat, voice rough from sleep as he reaches up to tickle beneath her chin. She leans into the touch.

Beside him, Ashley grunts and inhales. “Mmph.” He shifts under the covers so he’s on his back, roughly pushing sleep-mussed hair out of his face.

“Morning,” Andy smiles.

“Mornin’,” Ashley rubs at his eyes. He blinks, pausing for a second, hands falling to the bed and says, “Shit. Wow. We really did that last night, didn’t we?”

Andy wonders if Ashley is about to tell him this has all been a horrible mistake. Awkwardly, he replies, “Yeah, uh, I guess we did. That was…”

“Fucking amazing,” Ashley finishes his sentence after a beat. “I mean, shit, kid. That was really fucking great.”

“Yeah?” Andy feels his lips slide up into a relieved grin. “I kinda thought so too.”

Ashley laughs and looks over at him. “I would kiss you right now, but I’m sure I have morning breath strong enough to wake the dead. Breakfast instead?”

Andy agrees, and Ashley stretches languidly before getting out of bed, still gloriously naked. Andy props himself up on the bed and watches him pull on boxers, puttering around the kitchen as he prepares scrambled eggs and toast.

A man could get used to this view.

Gadzooks is sitting at the foot of the bed, looking at Andy in a way that’s all too knowing. He reaches over the side of the bed to grab his boxer briefs and tug them on, getting up and slowly ambling towards the counter. He’s bruised-up and stiff from the fight last night, and his ass is rather sore in the best way as he walks.

Andy grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water from the tap. “So,” he says, taking a sip, “You got plans today?”

Ashley pauses in pushing the eggs around the pan, looking over at Andy. He shrugs. “I don’t know about you, but I’d kinda like to take the day off and have sex in every single possible position known to mankind.”

Andy smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Good answer. That could definitely be arranged.”

The two of them chat and eat breakfast in their underwear. Once they’re done, Ashley puts their plates and cutlery in the dishwasher and says, “I’m going to go brush my teeth, and then I’m going to show you a good time for round three. Okay?”

Andy grins and bites his lip. “Okay.”

 

+

 

Between eating, recovery time and a multiple rounds of enthusiastic sex, the rest of the day passes quickly. By eight o’clock, the two of them are lying in bed, soaking in the afterglow with Andy resting his head on Ashley’s shoulder.

“Wow,” Andy says lazily after a long period of silence. “We’ve been really dumb about this whole... thing for a long time, haven’t we?”

Ashley laughs. “You have, maybe.” He lifts a hand to card through Andy’s hair. “I’ve been trying to get in your pants since we first met, twerp. I thought the flirting was pretty obvious.”

“Shit,” Andy says, bemused. “Fuck, I really suck at this relationship stuff. I feel like I should be up front about that.”

Ashley exhales a chuckle, pressing a kiss to Andy’s forehead. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Andy smiles. He tucks his nose into the side of Ashley’s neck and just breathes him in, thinks, _thank you._

 

+

 

“You could sell it, you know,” Ashley says as they’re eating dinner at the table one night. 

Another month has come and gone, bringing with it another successful fight for Andy as well as a freelance fashion writer job for Ashley. The two of them have settled into a peaceful routine of training, cooking and shopping. It’s quiet, and safe, and _good_.

“Sell what?” Andy asks, confused.

“Your apartment. The one you haven’t been to in two weeks.”

Andy looks up, swallowing. There’s a pause. “Well,” he says slowly.

“You don’t have to,” Ashley shrugs. “It just seems like a waste of money to hang onto it. If you want to keep it, though, you can. Like… if it’s your version of a safety net, or something. I don’t mind.”

Andy looks away. “I don’t know,” he admits, setting down his fork. There’s a pause. “It _is_ a waste of money, and I fucking hate that place. I guess I just… I don’t want to intrude, or assume or anything.”

Ashley fixes him with a fondly exasperated look. “Andy, you live here. You feed the cat, and buy groceries, and sneakily pay rent and have a toothbrush in the bathroom. We sleep in the same bed every night. You’re not ‘intruding’.”

There’s a long moment of silence. “I—Oh,” Andy flushes. “I mean… Oh.”

Ashley grins and rolls his eyes. “Jesus, kid. I wasn’t kidding about you being the most oblivious individual on the planet.”

“So… you mean you’re okay with me living here?” Andy asks. “Like, officially?”

“Of course,” Ashley says gently. “If you hadn’t noticed, I like having you around.” He reaches one hand out to cover Andy’s on the table, making firm eye contact. “I want you here.”

Andy ducks his head, suddenly shy as a blush heats his cheeks. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll sell it. I…” he pauses, “I guess I don’t really need it anymore.”

 

+

 

“Morning,” a voice greets Andy, close by his ear as he rises to consciousness. The greeting is followed by a kiss to his jaw.

Andy grins sleepily, rolling over and stretching. “Happy boxing day,” he mumbles. His voice is rough from sleep. He’s thinking about Christmas yesterday, and the baking and the food and the amazing, mind-blowingly awesome sex and—

“Happy birthday,” Ashley says.

Andy freezes, eyes opening. “Oh.” Ashley’s looking at him with an unreadable expression. They just look at each other for a long moment. “Uh, how… How did you know?”

“I asked CC a while back.” He pauses. “Are you… Is that not okay?” Ashley frowns, uncertain.

“No, it’s fine. I just— I, um.” Andy sits up on the bed, the covers at his waist. He rubs one eye, blinking and shaking off the remnants of sleep. “I… don’t really do birthdays,” he explains, embarrassed. “Or my own, at least. I don’t know. I just never have. I kind of forget about it sometimes. We… didn’t do that in my family.”

Ashley’s expression softens. “Okay,” he says. “We don’t have to make it a big deal, or anything. I just want to make you breakfast. And I got you a gift.” Andy immediately starts to protest and Ashley says, “It’s nothing big or special, don’t worry. It’s just something to show you that I care about you.”

“You already got me a Christmas gift yesterday,” Andy quietly protests, a hint of colour rising high on his cheeks.

Ashley laughs softly. “So what? I’ll shower you in gifts all day everyday, baby boy. I’ll totally be your sugar daddy.”

Andy cracks a smile. “Did you seriously just call me baby boy?”

“Yeah, I did,” Ashley raises an eyebrow. “You were totally into it, don’t deny.” He winks. “Come on, sweet cheeks, I’m making you breakfast and I’m not taking no for an answer. I have the day planned out and everything.”

Andy fondly rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

Ashley cooks Andy’s favourite blueberry protein pancakes for breakfast, and then they have slow, lazy sex afterwards in lieu of going to the gym as per usual.

It’s not rough this time, and it’s nothing they haven’t tried before, but it’s undeniably perfect. Ashley takes his time opening Andy up with his fingers and tongue first, drawing it out until Andy is flushed and gasping, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He finally slicks himself up and presses in, murmurs sugar-sweet words between kisses; he fucks into Andy until he’s writhing and begging, fucks him like he’s the only thing that has ever mattered.

There’s a feeling, deep and calm, that settles over Andy as Ashley kisses the moans from his mouth, reaches between them to stroke Andy to the brink at a torturously slow pace. The feeling is big and intense and terrifying in the best kind of way. Ashley is so _close_ , and it feels like it’s just the two of them, like nothing else exists outside of the apartment. Ashley whispers against his lips, tells him how good he feels. Andy shakes through his orgasm, coming onto his stomach, the two of them still kissing as Ashley follows immediately after.

“Wow,” Andy says as they’re lying side by side amidst the rumpled sheets. Ashley laughs and turns to press a kiss to the skin of his shoulder.

(If the morning is anything to go by, Andy is starting to think that maybe birthdays might not be so bad after all.)

Later that afternoon, Ashley surprises Andy by taking him out to the art gallery, where they stroll around and look at the art for a couple hours. Andy isn’t usually big on public displays of affection, but the feeling of mild awkwardness is completely worth it just to see the smile on Ashley’s face when Andy reaches out to take his hand, long, pale fingers curling around Ashley’s broader ones.

“Happy birthday,” Ashley turns to him, gently squeezing his hand as they look at a particularly intriguing red and yellow abstract painting. Andy ducks his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

That night, they order in Vietnamese and watch the 2013 _Evil Dead_ remake. It’s nine at night by the time the movie comes to a bloody finish, the two of them having adjourned to the bed in a tangle of limbs.

“I still have to give you your gift,” Ashley says quietly, nosing at Andy’s cheek.

Andy groans. “I can’t believe you. Christmas was literally yesterday, you really don’t have to—”

“I want to, idiot,” Ashley cuts him off. He extracates himself from Andy’s hold and says, “Wait here,” then gets up from the bed and goes to open the closet.

“Ashley,” Andy starts to protest again.

“Shut up, Biersack,” Ashley says, reaching around on the top shelf as Andy watches. “I told you, it’s nothing over the top.” He withdraws a small, flat black box from where it’s been hidden underneath a hoodie and walks back to the bed, handing it to Andy.

Andy looks down at the smooth box. His cheeks are flushed. “I— I don’t know if…”

Ashley cocks his head, sitting down on the bed beside him. “Just open it, okay? Please,” he urges gently. “I think you’ll like it.”

Andy gives in, turning the box over in his hands before popping the lid.

Inside, there’s a glint of silver. Andy looks over to Ashley, who gives him a look, and then he slowly takes it out.

It’s a necklace, he realizes. The chain is simple and of medium thickness, with a little circle that hangs down at the front. Andy runs it through his fingers, stopping at the small, coin-sized part and turning it over in his fingers. It catches the light from the window and Andy sees the letters engraved in plain script: _AP_.

“Oh,” Andy says softly.

There’s a moment of silence. Ashley bites his lip and says, “I… Is it too much? Did I overstep?”

Andy shakes his head mutely. “It’s— Um, wow. It’s perfect,” he finally manages. “Fuck, it’s… Wow.” He looks over at Ashley, a grin spreading across his features. “Shit, Ash.”

There’s hardly a pause before their mouths are pressed together, Andy’s hand curling around the necklace as Ashley’s fingers come up to rest against the side of his face.

“Thank you,” Andy says. “Thank you, I—… Thank you.”

Ashley’s answering chuckle is a warm puff of air across his lips. “So you like it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Andy says emphatically. “Yes, I don’t even know what to say. I love it. I..” he falters quietly. “I love you.” The words fall from his lips almost despite himself and he inhales a sharp breath, surprised he had the nerve to admit that. He can’t even remember the last time he said those three words.

Ashley goes completely still. His other palm comes up to cup Andy’s jaw and he’s just gazing back for a long moment, dark eyes serious.

Andy’s breath is coming shallowly and his hands are clammy. _Say something_ , he thinks frantically, looking away. Neither of them move. His cheeks are flaming. _Fuck_ , he thinks, _shit, I fucked up. Fucking—_

“Hey,” Ashley says after a second, interrupting his train of thought and turning Andy’s face back towards him with a gentle nudge. He leans in to plant a slow, tender kiss on Andy’s lips. It’s warm and chaste and _right_ , like two puzzle pieces quietly clicking into place. Ashley’s eyes are soft when he pulls back and says, “I love you too.”

 

 

 

+

**Author's Note:**

> WOW so this thing has been my baby for a long time and i’m actually still somehow kind of proud of it???  
> once again, thanks to [anatomyofacynic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatomyofacynic/pseuds/anatomyofacynic) for putting up with me and ultimately getting this where it needed to go - you have my eternal gratitude!  
> thank you all for reading, and i hope you enjoyed! feel free to drop me a comment below and let me know what you thought!! :)


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